Crohns, Divorce, and a little vodka in the OJ.

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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.

Meh.

Crohns can go to hell.

 

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