Clumsy, Clutzy Coughing Fits

I've been sick for four days. This is the dainty little sneezing with pretty cloth hankies either. This is a fire in my throat, and a cork in my nose. That's right people; I have strep throat. Again. I don't know why this particular ailment loves me so much, but I seem to contract it at least two times a year. And, it hangs onto my body like I'm the only thing with tonsils for a two hundred mile radius.


Most of my family doesn't even know that I'm sick, and this is because I turn into a complete introvert when I'm ill. I don't want to talk to people. I don't want to see people. I don't even want to listen to people. Everything. Hurts. I'm also kind of a whiner, and I realize it. So, the sound of my own voice becomes irritating.


However, I didn't write this post to whine about being sick. I wanted to tell all of you how badly sickness seems to amplify my normal clumsy nature.


You see, I've always known that I was a clumsy, clutzy person. From the moment I walked into my third grade classroom and stepped straight into a trashcan (and proceeded to get my foot stuck in said trashcan), I have known that I was doomed to bump and trip my way through life.


Really, its not that bad of a lot to have overall. I just have lots of bruises.


However, it seems that when I am sick this normal trippy, dippy nature is amplified to insurmountable heights. I proceeded to make this ten times worse today when I took an "Energy Now".


You see, I sell vitamins and natural remedies in my spare time (www.trivita.com/13564194). I like the natural products because they don't interfere with any other medication I might have to be on, and when I'm sick, I double up on my daily vitamins hoping the the extra vitamin C will help my body win the fight.


Well, another thing I don't do when I'm sick is clean. I stay in my bed as much as I can, and I try to keep myself hydrating and focusing on getting well. Today I decided that I had been in bed long enough and that my house needed to be cleaned (boy, was I right). So, I hobbled out of bed and coughed my way down the stairs to look at the damage.


I was nearly overwhelmed, but I pulled myself together and started working. After an hour or so, I was too tired to move. But, I had a secret remedy, and I wasn't afraid to use it! "Energy now" is a green tea, B-12, and other energy amplifiers supplement that gives you a nice natural boost without the drag later on. I love it, and I knew it would be perfect for today.


However, I didn't expect my wheezing and bumbling to get in the way. I tripped on my way into the kitchen. I bumped into the end of the couch and got a nice bruise. I slammed my head into the arm of the treadmill, and I slipped in the bathroom after cleaning the floor.


I think I've determined that its best for me to just admit defeat and crawl back in bed. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

The Tale of the Dishwashing Monster

This story begins as many others do - on a normal day with a mundane task. This story is also like a regularly repeated television show. Same bat time. Same bat channel. Allow me to explain.

At our home, we do not have a dishwasher. I have two hands, a sink, some soap, and some water. Just like the pioneers did it. I consider it to be one of my ultimate sacrifices in getting married, but I’m also a tad on the dramatic side.

In my household, its also a normal occurrence that I am the one doing the dishes. Surprise, surprise. Sometimes I think male anatomy might have an aversion to water.

Since day one, my cat has also been interested in my daily dish washing events. I’ve come to believe that she hears the clink and clang of porcelain against glass, and her mind twists the sound into some kind of medieval plea for help. I have tried to reassure her again and again that the pie plate is not in need of saving, but it has a fruitless effort.

As time progressed from the beginning of my marriage, she became more and more interested in the coming and going of things in the sink, and she began a ritual. As soon as I turn on the tap and add some soap, my heroic kitty rushes into the kitchen and sits at my feet - ever vigilant on the off chance that I will let her people go.

When several minutes elapse, she will then proceed to meow a plea and make a requesting circle around my ankles, begging for the prisoners release. If I pay her no attention and continue to torture the silverware with my scrubbing sponge, she reaches a breaking point.

It is at this time that my own precious cat will turn against me in a silent rage. Sitting sharply with her back straight and her ears flicked back, she decides that I am at fault. I have defied her commands, and I have to be treated to warlike situations.

Now, you need a tad more information to understand this next part because no regular cat could impose such cruelty with quite the force that she does. I took her on the scales today just to reaffirm my knowledge. My precious kitten weighs a whooping 19.4 lbs. Of that weight, her tail is less than a pound, but it is the most lethal next to her claws and teeth.

During the dish washing phase if all of her pleas are ignored, my sweet little kitty resorts to smacking my legs with her tail, and because she is so large it tends to leave bruises on my ankles. Originally, I told people what these bruises where from, but the story has become far too long to repeat on a day-to-day basis. So now, I tend to hold in my shame and just tell people that I ran into something.

I get fewer stares that way.

One day I pray that I will have a dishwasher of my very own and that my cat and I will be on even terms in every area of the house, but for now, I’m stuck with bruises and trying to do the dishes in the dark so she doesn’t notice.