Plague and overemployment have hit our house with a fury heretofore unknown my darlings.
I’m working from 8am to 5pm at the dr’s office and slinging beers from 5 to 11pm at the pub, (God bless the town I live in – they are next door to each other) which surprisingly leaves me very little time for sanity, proper nutrition, and Glee. I believe at one point last night I sat down at a table and may or may not have let out the teeniest little sob. And I ate one of their chicken wings. And like all good windmill makers in that situation, those gentlemen tipped me well.
Unfortunately, around about the same time I commenced upon the task of running myself into the ground, Jared got sick.
Like, sick. Everywhere.
When I finally crawled into bed last night, and lay my weary head down upon a smear of still moist vomit, I got up, changed the pillowcase, wiped off my cheek, and went to sleep.
Which is why I will be MIA for a little bit longer my darlings, though I miss you and all your stories terribly. I will be MIA because I am working long hours, eating badly, and sleeping in vomit. (Is a “I’m practicing to be a supermodel” joke here misplaced? I can’t tell anymore. So tired.) xo