Pickles & Dimes

I went to the doctor on Tuesday solely to get a prescription refilled. I figured we’d talk about my asthma, my medication, blahdeblahblah and I’d leave with another year of inhalers all lined up at the pharmacy. Instead, my doctor tried to talk me into taking daily asthma medication (hell no), increased my paranoia by pointing out a “suspicious” mole I should get checked out, and somehow talked me into getting a pneumonia vaccine, which is reserved for the very, very elderly with severe lung issues (and me, apparently). So I got jabbed with the pneumonia vaccine, which immediately made my arm feel like it had been pummeled repeatedly by someone with a grudge wearing a large class ring. Then I sat in miserable traffic (at 10:00 in the morning!) before angrily trotting into work, where I felt myself getting sicker by the minute. In fact, that night Jason said he could actually see me deteriorate. If I hadn’t had a very slight sore throat before I went to the doctor, I’d blame this stupid pneumonia vaccine for the reason I stayed home sick from work yesterday feeling like I was going to choke to death on my own mucus. God, it was disgusting. I can’t even remember how many times I tried to clear my throat, only to gag on a tsunami of snot and have to cough myself back to the Land of the Living. Ick.

As was the case the last time I stayed home sick, a pet threw up in empathy, only this time it was Abby, who miraculously did it on the hardwood, and not Shorty, who did it last time on the comforter, three inches from my nauseous, stuffy head. So that was better. He stayed with me on the bed the entire day (I can’t even believe I slept the entire day – in fact, my back hurt so bad from lying all day that I could barely sleep last night), while Sunny kept making sure I was still alive by repeatedly headbutting me and finding any piece of exposed skin possible to wipe her cold, wet nose on.

Anyway, because I am paranoid about all the crap in my body already (namely YOU, pneumonia vaccine), I am fighting this thing without medicinal assistance. And I’m winning. BWAHAHAHHAHAcoughcoughcough.

Jason won our 2010 Cribbage Tournament. He is equally smug and giddy, with a side of Halfhearted Guilt thrown in for appearance’ sake about the fact that he has won the last five years. “Don’t you even want to try to win?” he asks, joking, as I silently recount all of his hands whenever we play with slitted, suspicious eyes. I’d say 2011 is my year, but obviously that line of optimism expired long ago.

We have not yet had much opportunity to incorporate FUN! into our year yet (besides New Year’s Day, which we spent bowling and playing cards and eating a Bucket of Tots with Jason’s parents and some friends after having to scrap our original plans due to the weather – that’s right: A Bucket of Tots) because both of our Workplaces are made up of people who like to give us more work because we “can be counted on to get the job done.” That is all fine and dandy and full of back-handed accolades, but it essentially boils down to this: some people we work with are procrastinators. Therefore, we are being punished by getting their work. It is sad that Jason is positively thrilled about only working 9.5 hours a day (when it’s usually 11-12), and I am elated about leaving at 5:00 (after working through lunch, as per the new normal. In fact, I just got interrupted mid-soup-spoonful by someone wanting something). It is crazy-busy for both of us, but we’re doing the best we can right now and not acting on our first impulse, which is to swear and punch people (me) and dramatically quit our jobs (also me). Instead, I am angrily scratching giant, highlighted Xs on all the calendar workdays this year that make me want to quit (tally so far: one).

The pets are helping by being FUN! and extra adorable. Shorty and Jason have been practicing this circus act where Jason leans over and Shorty jumps onto his back. Every once in awhile, I’ll be commanded to “Come here!” and enter the room to see my husband standing upright with our dog standing calmly and smugly on top of his shoulders, all, “What up?” Before I know it, we will have a trapeze in our living room. Or a cannon.

Abby has been enjoying the extra food we give her in an attempt to fatten her up (galloping toward me like a lunatic when I announce it’s time for “Second Breakfast!”) and has increased her desire for hunting water in the wild by no longer waiting for me to exit the shower before licking the walls. The first time this happened, I was caught completely unaware, and when, in my pre-contact blurriness I saw a large gray-ish creature under the shower curtain, I (logically, no?) assumed a giant raccoon had somehow gotten into the bathtub. (With that explanation, you will agree that my reaction was totally appropriate.)

Sunny is, well, Sunny. 95% demented and uncontrollable and 5% extra snuggly and cute. She has finally discovered the top of the dryer, where she sits in a blissful, toasty stupor when we do laundry, but the rest of the time she is loudly demanding food by meowing relentlessly. In fact, she meows, moves to another area, meows again, and then moves to yet another area to meow. Only the meows all sound different. It’s the feline equivalent of throwing your voice in an attempt to convince us multiple cats are begging for food. Part of me wonders if there is something wrong with her, because she will steal Abby’s food, Shorty’s food, and even sit on a hot stove burner to score our dinner leftovers if we don’t take preventive measures.

1. Monopoly (of my time)
2. Aggravation
3. Trivial Pursuit
4. Battleship
5. Balderdash
6. Candy Land
7. Trouble
8. Risk
9. Bonkers!
10. Sorry! (That I brought you this last-minute proposal!)

Jason saw this masthead and said, “It doesn’t look very wintery. More like springtime.” Exactly. The wind chill today was minus 20 degrees. I have exhausted my enthusiasm for my winter clothes, and I’m ready for spring.

Anyway, for 2011, Jason and I decided our one-word motto would be “FUN!” (It’s said exactly like that: in all caps and with an exuberant exclamation point.)

What’s your one-word motto for 2011?