dear virus

please shit or get off the pot.

either make me too ill to care, or go away. This mild-aches-with-a-bit-of-fever shit is for the birds. (temp taken, 38.4C, or just above 101F)

(nothing's worse than being a little bit sick, especially with a toddler. You're not feeling much like playing with them, but you are fit to care for them so can't reasonably ask your husband to stay home.)

dinner

no idea what to cook.

We had salmon Monday and chicken (with onions, peppers and tomatoes, served over pasta) yesterday. I don't feel like meat (or going to the butcher's to buy it), and someone (not me) has been known to kvetch that if a dead animal isn't involved, it isn't dinner.

Actually, thanks to mindycl mentioning it, I want my grandma's chicken fricassee (wings, giblets and meatballs, served over rice).

bleh

All housekeeping is horribly Sisyphean, as someone on a forum once said, but surely there are few tasks worse than picking up your toddler's toys. I wouldn't bother to do it as often as I do, but I get sick of tripping over blocks.

Now it's time for a random crying jag. I have no idea what does this, only that half the time, soothing doesn't work.