This Plague, Brought To You By Kleenex

Well, the on-call doc fixed me up pretty good, I think. I started taking all my meds while I was on the phone with him, and as soon as the hubby could get back from the pharmacy. By the next morning, I was feeling pretty good. Especially compared to the previous two and a half weeks, which is really good, considering the doc almost forbade me to go to Iowa. I didn't tell the hubby that part. I knew he'd have a fit with me (and not uncalled for), so I just didn't tell him. However I did tell my mother-in-law, and let her know what was going on and what the doc had said, and what I'd be needing. She seemed pretty confident that they could take care of it all, so opted for the Iowa Plan, instead of spending Thanksgiving with my family.

Not that I don't love my family and all, but without the Monster Munchkin to distract people from whatever I'm wearing/doing, spending time with my family does usually involve a minor amount of harassment. It's not like they're trying to harass. They just seem to want to know every little detail about everything, and they can be occasionally aggressive about it. I'm possibly a little oversensitive to the whole interrogation process, too, which makes it more interesting.

The other added incentive to go to Iowa was that I knew I would be totally free to sit on my butt as long as I wanted, almost entirely wherever I wanted -- and if that meant not moving for the entire week, I could actually do that, provided I didn't go insane with cabin fever first. My mother, on the other hand, has a very serious agenda whenever I'm home. That's all fine and good, and I'm happy to let her tote me around wherever she wants -- but not when I'm about to drop dead from being sick.

So off to Iowa I went.

And then began The Eight Days of Gluttony. Seriously. One hundred and ninety-two hours of nothing but deliriously unhealthy food, and no gym. It was heaven. We started the whole thing out with lasagna, which I absolutely adore. But you know what's better than lasagna for dinner? Lasagna for midnight snack, followed by lasagna for breakfast, lunch and then mid afternoon snack. Repeat process until pans are empty, then proceed to lick clean.

We had taco pizzas, we had chicken divan (another favorite, but it was all gone before even the midnight snack came around), some awesome steaks, and of course the normal Thanksgiving fare, and a few nights out. The magnitude of the gluttony was impressive. And I'd like to blame all the weight I've gained on the prednisone (side effects are water retention and weight gain), but I'm pretty sure that's not the entire case.

I also got to do some reading, and sadly, I have finally finished the last Harry Potter book. I've been putting it off since it came out while I was pregnant, but I finally pulled the trigger. I hate reading the last of a series, especially when the author has no other books out. But I guess it had to happen sometime.

The flights there and back were mercifully uneventful, aside from normal toddler trauma. But the hubby came down with something when we got back. And guess who came down with it too! No, seriously, guess! So yeah, I've got a nice little sinus infection going on. I'm really wondering if I should count my 5 to 7 days of wellness. I was happy to have them, don't get me wrong, but was it getting well, or was it a minor blip of "feeling LESS crappy?" Hard to say.

But I'm starting to feel better, I think. Maybe. I drank half a gallon of tea today, to help keep myself hydrated, and I was feeling well enough to start Operation House Reclamation. The house is mine. Not Cutezilla's. Although I don't think she believes me. And okay the house is still a moderate to heavy wreck, but I made some progress, and I can probably do some more tomorrow. I hope. I'm avoiding the gym until I'm back at 100%, though. I hate it, but it's too easy at this point to relapse. And let's face it, I'm pretty dumb. No one who's sick says to themselves, "Oh hey, I can do an hour on the treadmill! Sure, no problem!" No one but me, apparently.

Anyway, crossing my fingers.