Unfortunately, it was very hard to enjoy myself, not only because it is the single most stressful day of the year for me, but also because I've come down with a fairly severe case of what I think (with all of the knowledge my Bachelor's in Theatre provides) is bronchitis. When I speak, I sound like a mix between Harvey Fierstein and Kathleen Turner. It's hot.
And I'm coughing non-stop. A little while ago, after a particularly violent fit of coughing, Nolan looked at me and said, "I don't think I've ever been more attracted to you than I am right now."
I was too weak to go over there and kick him.
So, amidst the barrage of things I need to do this week, which may include but are not limited to: cooking a funeral meal at church Tuesday, a taking a meal over to a friend, wrapping nine million and four Christmas gifts, having Christmas with my side of the family Wednesday night, reading The Grinch to first graders Wednesday morning, having company all week and a hair appointment on Friday, I need to carve out some time to go to the doctor.
Ugh. Though... I like my doctor. He always makes horribly inappropriate jokes and then apologizes profusely. So there's that.
Okay. These are first world problems. Nothing I can't handle. I'm doing it. I'm going to the grocery store to buy all the food we'll need for this week. One vodka and Valium step at a time.
Happy Christmas Week, everyone. Cheers.