Yesterday was the kind of day where everything at work just keeps exploding. However, on the plus side, since I felt like poop, I could just convince myself that it was because I wasn't quite myself, and that really helped.

It's all about rationalizing.

I know I must be feeling a little better this morning, because, although there is no way I'm allowed to do anything even remotely related to cleaning yet (I guess dusting and cleaning chemicals aren't conducive to nice, un-swollen airways and ears...argh), I am wandering through my house, feeling like a derelict who has allowed a huge bomb of filth to explode, and failed to even try to stop the damage. Or a hobo. Whatever. I think derelict feels fancier, so I'm going with that.

Worst part is, I totally know it's the truth. It IS bad in here (at least according to my usual cleaning schedule, which has not been followed in almost 13 days). Also, I know that my husband would be totally up to doing some dusting, etc., if he had any energy left at all after dealing with work and my crazy-pants self (which he might because he's kind of got super powers that way), but he can't disturb the dust, either. It's not really at that point yet, and it would stir up more trouble than just leaving it for another week.

Fortunately, there's always laundry. My machine is going to get a workout today, whether it likes it or not. Can I fold it? Maybe. We'll see. I'm just so excited that I can work from home today in my pajamas, at least for part of the day. I am definitely not ready for normal yet.

This is slow.

I hate slow.

But it is slow AND crazy, and I am definitely used to crazy. Just got to go with it.