So as I’m putzing around the house this morning, speeding back and forth from the bathroom at 7am, I thought to myself: Man, this would be sooo much easier if I was still married. You know. If I had a husband who could clean up and take care of The Short One while I relaxed and dealt with the Crohns. It would be nice. This morning has been particularly rough, all I want to do is sleep off this pain, NOT play race-car with my daughters obnoxious ride-on-catapillar-thing.
After I finally sat down with my coffee. I thought about it. If I had that miraculous husband that took care of me, geez. I’d never leave my room. I’m sick so often, I would NEVER get anything done. Granted, on my bad days I’m known to stay in my pajamas as I work around the house and play with my kid. Mostly because TRUST ME, pj pants are much more comfortable than jeans if your stomach/back is being shredded by Freddie.
But yeah, like I was saying. I’d be the least productive person ever. Even if I barely get the necessities done when I’m sick, at least I’m DOING SOMETHING. I really beat myself up if I don’t get anything done during the day. That is one of my biggest fears, not being able to function because of this stupid disease.
Crohns can go to hell.