Sunday, January 13, 2013

Germ-of-the-week Club OR A Very Fatty Christmas

December was the worst, am I right? First, our son got a new illness each week for the first three weeks of December. He's started playing with some kids his age once a week, and it's kind of like a germ-of-the-week club. The first week he had croup, which means he was coughing like a 108-year-old man who smokes a carton of unfiltered tar cigarettes a day. He almost had to go to the emergency room, but instead the doctor prescribed him a nebulizer, which is a kind of baby hookah.

The second week he had a stomach virus that made him puke every 15 minutes like clockwork. He slept in our bed so that we could ideally catch the puke in a bowl, but of course it didn't work that way and all three of us ended up covered in it.

Week 3 brought a super-cold and more than enough snot, and in Week 4 we tried to catch up on sleep and put everything in the washing machine.

Next, my computer broke, which was hard at first. I couldn't blog, I couldn't play Star Craft, I couldn't read about celebrities (I had to learn that Harry Styles and Taylor Swift broke up from someone at work). It was a good thing because I realized I have a problem with wasting time on my computer. I was astonished at all the things I got done in my computer's absence. I kept telling my wife, “This is great!” and listing off all the things I had done. She said, “You know you can just turn it off whenever you want, right?”

And lastly came all the disappointments of trying to be healthy in December, the fatty-est month of the year. After awhile I just gave up trying. Here are some examples of what I mean:

Exibit A - I went to a place called “The Rib Crib” and ate a sandwich called “The Pig Man.” Even my wife, who has promised before the Great State of New Mexico and a religious leader to love, honor and cherish me, looked at me like, “Seriously?”

Exhibit B - A mysterious person claiming to be our neighbor brought us a giant plate piled high with fudge, cookies, brownies, rice crispy treats and everything else that is right with the world. My wife said, “Don't eat them, they might be poisoned!” but I said, “I don't care! Don't they look delicious? Just call 911 if anything happens to me and they can pump my stomach. Google 'arsenic,' too.”

Exhibit C – On Christmas Eve I had an extremely vivid dream about eating a breakfast burrito. The egg to potato ratio was perfect, it had sausage, bacon and chorizo and it was smothered in just the right amount of green chile and cheddar cheese. My wife woke me up and said, “Hey, it's Christmas morning. Come participate in the magic of Christmas with your son.”

And I said, “You guys start without me. I want to keep dreaming about this burrito.”

Any ideas on how to stop using the computer/internet so much? Please leave a comment.