Ok guys. I'm sick as a dog. Sick, sick puppy. My lungs are on fire, and my nose feels as though it might explode - so does my head, for that matter. This morning, I woke up feeling as though someone took an ax to my head.
So I did what I know how to do best: I called my BFF and asked her what in the hell I could take. Mr. M and I had gone to get some soup for dinner, and I didn't have my Safe Meds List with me.
Off to the drugstore we go, while I'm still talking to Mrs. C. Mr. M picked out some generic-brand cold relief stuff I can take (per Mrs. C), while I'm on the phone with her still, and reading the ingredients of the generic version of Robitussin.
Now we're home, I'm in my PJ's, and we're both on our laptops, curled up in bed. Mr. M was good and made me some chamomile tea with honey, since this damn cold is kicking my ass and I can't stop coughing.
I also just remembered there are so many things that would work wonders on this cold, if it weren't for the fact that I am trying to grow and bake a healthy little lentil inside of me.
I do happen to be of the school of thought that I felt a swift kick in my bladder the other day. Strong enough to make me almost pee myself. But not strong enough that I almost yelped. Haven't felt it since then, so it was probably just a gas pain or something.
Mr. M and I haven't had that much luck in finding a new home, either. What the hell? When we were looking last year, there were so many places to choose from, it was really hard to choose the [seemingly] best one.
We saw one that I absolutely loved - an old farmhouse, with the original mud room, the original built-in shelves all over the place, with a really big pantry. In the basement, it had an old old fireplace, with the built-in Dutch Oven. I frigging loved it. Mr. M noticed things I didn't, though - such as a leak in the roof, a patch of sinking roof on the outside, etc. Eh, that's why I keep him around - he's great at that stuff. I like crannies and the fact that I would have a washing machine and dryer.
Another place we looked at was kind of on the "eh" side. Not-so-nice area, quiet, but it seemed as though the entire neighbourhood is young and likes to party - not the best environment for a baby.
We'll look at a few other places this weekend.
Apollo is such a great dog when it comes to meeting people. He nuzzles their hand, licks them, and curls up on the floor if he's not sitting [protectively] next to me. Thank God, we haven't had a repeat of what happened to us last year when looking at places - Apollo got so freaked out by one place, that while we were in the basement, he stopped in his tracks, whimpered, looked at me, squatted and pooped.
So embarrassing. This was after we bragged for about an hour about how house-trained he was, and how he never has accidents inside the house.
Then, he poops. Go figure. Needless to say, we took that as an indicator of a not-so-good home and area.
So Mr. M and I decided that we're going to research into a foundation/organization to donate Little Lentil's cord blood to. For some reason, I keep getting calls and emails from one of the storage companies for this. It's SO annoying. Finally, they phoned me again this afternoon while I was en route to our meeting with a financial advisor.
Saleslady: Hi, this is such and such from such and such Company.
Me: Hi. How are you? How did you guys get my contact information?
Saleslady: Ma'am, we get contact info from third party vendors.
(this is where she REALLY pissed off this pregnant lady - with the "ma'am")
Me: I have asked you PLEASE stop contacting me, as my husband and I are NOT interested in storing the cord blood, and at this point, even if we were, we would NOT be utilizing your services. Please stop contacting me.
Saleslady: If I may ask, ma'am, why did you decide to store the cord blood?
Me: We decided to donate it for someone to actually use it. Now, lady, you're taking up my cell minutes. Please stop calling.
Seriously. Who the hell do these people think they are? As I was hanging up, I heard her saying something that was rather rude. Maybe I should have asked to speak to her supervisor...?
Anyway, since I feel like Death just woke up, there are no tummy pics today to post. Maybe tomorrow.