Oye. I went home early from work again yesterday. My wonderful doctor did not make me come in for another office visit; she called in a prescription for a steroid dose pack, and I have a fresh box of Mucinex-D, which apparently will be my new eternal companion.
Cooking tip: cream of wheat in the microwave is a nice treat when you’re feeling puny. However, it does not take well to neglect. I was nuking it in 1 1/2 minute increments [while proofreading and debugging my pattern for the Chutzpah II sweater]. I forgot to go in and stir it after the second nuking [for maybe 15 minutes?], only to find a sodden lump of quick-set concrete in the bottom of the Pyrex cup. Which I, being the stubborn and frugal wench that I am, promptly beat like the proverbial stepchild and finished nuking.
Puts me in mind of the very old Cosby routine [from his album with “Tonsils” and “Chicken Heart”] about his mom, who could not make cream of wheat without lumps.
So: prednisone. Maybe the first thing I have taken that tastes worse than a penicillin pill. (I remember those. Can’t take them anymore, but I still remember how they made a chewable vitamin C pill taste sweet by comparison.) But it seems to be doing the trick. Although I have the urge to eat everything in the fridge, all at once, and possibly the fridge as well.
“I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too.”
I was supposed to hang out with my daughters tonight. Instead, I will be keeping my croupy self at home, watching the videos that my BFFE - Arlington gave me, and knitting as if I were on steroids.
Oh wait. I am.
- Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!