No Food; Crying & Laughing

What a week. I haven't been this excited for Friday in long time. There's been close to no cooking in our house for the last week. Its been one of those weeks where you don't know whether to laugh or cry or cough.

Sunday morning started with both of us sick. Head cold, escalating symptoms kind of sick.

Monday morning I had (and still do) so much work do, I suited up and headed into the office. When I came home midday feeling crappy, my car died as I turned into the driveway. AAA came to pick it up and took it to the mechanic.

Tuesday morning we both went to work, feeling slightly better. Sadly, Micky's eyes, which had been filling up with junk, were looking pretty bad. Work, workout (even though I was sick, it was my last week of my workout program), lay on the couch moaning about how bad we feel. One car for two busy people.

Wednesday my nose was Niagara Falls and I had meetings all day. Back to back to back. Micky had an immovable vet's appointment at noon that didn't feel like it would be such a pain when I made the appointment (since I still had a functioning vehicle at that point.) Car switcheroo. Back to work. Work late. Walked Micky late because we'd been too sick to exercise him. Micky saw a dog friend across the street at the precise moment I was bent down to pick something up. Leash tore through my fingers as he ran across the street (very naughty, probably the naughtiest thing he's even done.) Extreme pain in fingers. Icing. Crying. Bed.

Thursday the car shop called to say my car was just out of gas. Apparently the low fuel gauge no longer works. Got my car back, felt like a prize idiot, especially with all the car shuffling and carpooling we did with our crazy schedules. Laughing. At work my finger felt and looked worse than the night before. Worked all day, x-rays at the doctor's office (not broken, just severely jammed and looking like a dead person's finger.) Buddy taped the fingers, worked out and finally made it home to make dinner: chicken paprikash w/carrots and dill.

Micky was positive the wrap on my fingers was food. He kept licking it and trying to nibble it off my hand. Finally I had to hide my left hand inside my shirt sleeve so he'd leave it alone. At least someone got some food in this house.