"An Uncomfortable Routine"

...must resist urge to write about being sick AGAIN!!

Ah, screw it. This past weekend, Stacey and I were told that we were really "selling parenting" by one of our non-child-having friends. If he could see me now, he might change his tune.

It seems, that for the 473rd time this year, I'm sick, and I'm pretty sure that my son—the harbinger of germtastic nastiness himself—is somehow to blame. I woke up yesterday with a sore throat, knowing that I'd been infected yet again. Today, I'm achy, I've got chills and I'm dizzy, in addition to the increasingly sore throat. If I wrote an entry here every time Connor has gotten me sick in the last year-and-then-some, the sheer volume of posts would probably bring Blogger to its knees.

By now, though, I've been through this enough to know to respond to each different type of virus that manages to overwhelm my weak-ass immune system—which appears to be having about the same success rate at supressing uprisings as American troops in Iraq. Thankfully, this particular bout of sickness isn't that bad. Tomorrow morning, I suspect I'll wake up feeling much better, ready to take out my frustration on Connor for getting me sick in the first place. Next week, we'll probably repeat the process all over again, and again, and again...