Sorry for the dead time, but I've been under the weather these days becoming good friends with the couch.
Nicholas came down with some sort of 24 hour bug yesterday and spent the whole day in bed as well. I kept him home from school today hoping that would get him on his feet for school tomorrow. Becca called from school complaining of neck pain and needed permission from the school nurse for some ibuprofin. "Go for it!" I told the nurse. So far, only Nick and I have the "yuck" bad enough to stay home. We've competed for the the coveted couch, and I admit, he's been on it longer than me. It's a comfortable couch.
When you lay on a couch for a few days, one starts to see the many things around the house that have been neglected: the dusty plants on the top shelf of the bookshelves, the dingy yellow paint on the walls, the fraying-fading furniture from 7 years of four crying out loud (when were the cushion covers last washed?), the clutter in the kitchen, the many stacks of paperwork from four different schools that need attention, the disorganized books on their shelves. It's enough to make one much sicker than they probably are and too depressed to move. Where to begin?
I think it's Nick's turn on the couch. He doesn't see what I see. I think I'll go have some soup.