21 2006 |
Adding to this disconnection is illness: we've all been sick, some more than others. Mine lasted maybe 2 days in serious illness, but has lingered slightly since. D has been ill for what seems like months, and Des spent a long weekend with her mom on the couch with bronchitis and a sinus infection. The long weekend was brought on by a time-shifting event that few of us remember from our childhood: Parent-Teacher Conferences. Wouldn't your work-month be much better if you had some 5-day weekends tossed in there once in a while? And 12 weeks off in the summer? And two weeks for Christmas? School is rigid only 5 or 6 out of every eight weeks, if that.
Destiny's 5-day weekend has moved into it's 6th day, but it's not a surprise considering how she looked the night before. Not throwing up, or even coughing much, but drained and shaky. She tried this morning, got up, got dressed, tried breakfast, but it wouldn't work. Back to bed, I said, and she went without arguement.
D's constant illness has gotten her to actually consider going to the doctor. As a prevention of her backing out, I'll be making the appointment shortly, and informing her of when I'll be dragging her sick butt to the clinic. Some arguing will no doubt occur (despite this being her idea, right ladies?), but in the end she'll tell me how sweet I was to take her, and she'll feel much better after some medical treatment.
So, last night I ran to the grocery store, and noticed the neighbor's garbage cans by the end of the driveway. Were they leaving for the weekend, I wondered, and wanted their trash out in time? Or was it because it was so full, they wanted it out of the garage? It's going to have all the neighborhood cats living in them if they sit there for, what, three days...no...garbage comes on Tuesday, and today is...
Ah, lovely time-dilation. Weeks have passed underneath me, without any real indicators to keep track of where I am on the timepath. It was Monday yesterday, and my neighbors were not crazy. Speaking of which, I better get my garbage out to the curb. It might be weeks before I encounter another indicator of the date - and our garbage cans are getting pretty full.
In other news, Kitschy-Kitschy-Coo is being resurrected, with a less-rigid publishing schedule. Go have a look -- if you're one of our writers, we'll be in touch, or you can email the Kitschy email address and let us know you're still interested in contributing.