Who will be the Lone Survivor? During this immunity challenge, castaways must overcome isolation, whining, and illness, all while weaning from Zoloft. Who will be left standing at the end?
Now that our Pink Eye epidemic is over, we have moved on to congested croup-like coughing throughout the day and night. If you don’t know what the croup is, imagine being attacked by a herd of barking seals who slobber on you and cling to you as if the ground is on fire. That, is the croup.
But rather than dwelling on the Closter phobia I am feeling from isolating myself in this house for a third straight week, not even able to see out the windows due to the Miami-like humidity I’m fabricating within these walls, I am trying to take advantage of my circumstances.
For instance, Ruthie and I are working on potty training. Her, that is, not me. Yesterday she wore a pull-up and kept it dry all morning, earning herself a special treat.
I am also organizing every nook and cranny of this house, and am THIS close to painting something.
Hey, we’ve got nothing else to do around here.
In my recent absence from the universe Things have been happening that no one has told me about. I escaped briefly yesterday to buy some groceries, only to find Brad and Angelina all over the checkout line with headlines about pregnancy and marriage.
COME ON, PEOPLE, you KNOW I fall behind in my gossip when I’m not working out at the gym! You are supposed to give me a HEADS UP on these things! Spill it. What’s going on?
THROW ME A FREAKIN’ BONE – I CAN’T EVEN SEE OUT MY WINDOWS!