A hot, wrung-out, used, dirty dishrag.

Well, readers, I'm really struggling today. Thought I was getting better, but my stomach thought otherwise, and I spent most of the morning in the bathroom. I sludged back to bed and stayed there until about 3. I tried to take a shower to wake myself up so I could do something purposeful. I've spent a couple of hours trying to catch up on my interview write-ups from work last week but all I want to do is go back to bed. I can't possibly need more rest. Just one interview write-up left...and then I can move onto college counseling. I have a 15 slide powerpoint and 6 or so handouts to create for a college counseling meeting for parents of Juniors next week. But I'm so slammed at work that I need to get it done this weekend. So much for my plans of clearing out the clutter in the back room.

And Michael is out tonight--at a banquet for his fishing club, which has been planned for months. I was so excited for him to go out with the guys and have some fun. Except after he left I felt like crying. A full night stretching in front of me...I'm on duty...every time I lay down on the couch, the doorbell rings.  The kids are sweet, saying they hope I'll feel better soon...but they still have to ring the doorbell. And I still have to answer it. What I wouldn't give for a video intercom thingie right now.  And I'm starving, but scared to eat, because I hardly ate anything yesterday and my stomach revolted.  So far I've had two pieces of toast, a handful of cashews, a cereal bar and a cucumber. Still hungry. Still nauseous. And a bit lonely.

And, I took a look at the schedule of interviews for next week...looks like being out last week has caught up to me, because I'm slammed next week. Which just makes me want to cry even more.  Just five more days of interviews...just five more days...

Remember how I said I felt like a hot, used dishrag? Well, I forgot wrung out. A hot, wrung-out, used, dirty dishrag.