Over the weekend, Dave caught a cold so severe his left eye watered for twenty-four hours as his right eye tried to make a run for it. Sneezing, headache and general misery was his unfortunate state of body and mind. Being a girl who sometimes wants what others have, I began feeling a tickle in my throat but promptly ignored it and went to Target. I never shop there on weekends but I figuring that everyone is flat broke and the economy is teetering on the brink so why not go spend money and feel shitty about myself? I actually thought that the parking garage would be as empty as a frat house keg on a Sunday morn and I would be the lone asshole charging it up.
Not in L.A., anyway. When the financial crisis hits, the fabulous and filthy rich and the poor and petulant flock to the local Target as if it were the only bathroom on an endless highway to hell. Everyone is created equal at Target, filling their carts with cases of Pepsi Max to drown their trendy sorrows in what is now known as the diet cola for dudes. Thousands of eager spenders crowded the aisles rummaging through piles of trendy t-shirts and gallons of laundry detergent priced to sell. Throngs of whiny tweens begged for Hannah Montana dolls while their angry parents threatened them with recession punishments like canceling the cable and never eating fast food again. It was a great way to spend my quiet Sunday
My Target list included the basics, such as landfill unfriendly diapers and toilet paper that I recently read strips forests of the most vulnerable trees. Who knew Quilted Northern was the new Hummer? Not only do I feel like shit every time Otto takes a shit but I now have to either feel horribly guilty when I wipe my ass or, just horrible if I switch to a recycled paper that leaves my nether regions in shambles. I will fight that battle with my conscience another day because today, I desperately need the fluffy soft rolls and boxes of aloe filled tissue that I bought yesterday. I caught this f*&ing cold and it sucks scissors as my mother would say.
After returning from my Target sojourn yesterday, I officially became the proud owner of a nasty, putrid, head crushing cold, stealing Dave’s thunder and his box of Puffs Plus with lotion. We spent last night eating Chinese war wonton soup, chocolate ice cream and Nyquil gel caps. I woke up at 3:30 this morning begging for someone to decapitate me and make the stuffy go away, as well as smelling like Chinatown after a tepid rainfall.
With a toddler in the house and the inevitability that he needs his parents to do shit for him every minute that he is awake I will now attempt to get up and feel better. Dave has had him all day, giving me the luxury and the gift of really staying in bed to fight this bag of germs, while still feeling crappy himself. He is the best and all of you do not have to tell me that, again. I know, I know, I know.
I do miss those days of sleeping until 3 in the afternoon and feeling like I have accomplished absolutely nothing in my life. Those were some good times. I will now try and continue the trip down memory lane and make myself a Top Ramen. Some things never change. If I can finish eating the bowl of MSG and noodles before Otto rises from his nap and sucks the life out of both of us, it will be even better.