Ugh. Yesterday sucked in a "test your resiliency" and "WTF?" kind of way. The kind where afterward you feel like you're going to crawl out of your skin and you pace around consciously trying not to be a raging bitch. So I did what any reasonable person does and got a tattoo. I finally got Avery's part added to my family piece and it's AWESOME. It was also exactly what I needed. Two hours in the chair numbed by endorphins and shooting the shit with strangers does a body good. This may be a new coping skill. When I told a friend at work about my day though, her first response was "So you self-injured?" Welcome to the world of correctional psychology.
Today I'm sick. Like, came home from work, huddled under a blanket, haven't moved in hours sick. I called it last week but thought I may have dodged it. Nope. Now I keep yelling at the kids not to breathe my air. I indulgently and preemptively bout the Brangelina People and chicken soup so although it's terrible timing, I'm prepared for a forced rest.
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