1. Never take your health for granted. You could be perfectly fine one day (say, Thursday) and wake up perfectly ill the next (for instance, with a truly sore throat and nasty sinus congestion on Friday morning).
2. Never complain about how poorly you feel, or how inconvenient it is. Things can go from bad to worse in the blink of an eye. (For example, you could wake up Saturday morning no longer with a cold, but spend the next twelve hours continuously vomiting and feeling so nauseous that every time your husband asks if he can get you anything you beg for a bullet and a gun).
3. Never mix cold medications. Ever. (Trust me. Just refer to number two.)
4. It's entirely possible to be hungry and hate food at the same time.
5. Never assume that you'll accomplish a lot on the weekends. Use the time you have, while you have it. Fate loves to throw a monkey wrench in all your plans.
6. Enjoy your food. Savor every bite that doesn't make your stomach rumble with warning. Tomorrow just the sight of it could make you turn green.
7. Never underestimate the comfort a loving husband or a good friend can bring you when you're feeling at your worst. There's nothing more soothing than a loving hand to help you up, or hold back your hair. Cherish those that are willing to do that for you.
8. Time, and some good 'bad' TV, heals all wounds. (And viruses).
9. Do the dishes while you're well. Because there'll only be bigger stacks of them waiting for you when you get better.
10. Never mix cold medications. Ever. (It had to be repeated. It was a big lesson.)
Showing posts with label weird life lessons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weird life lessons. Show all posts
Monday, August 20, 2012
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite
"What do you mean they were spraying for bed bugs?"
I stared at my husband's solemn face as horror rolled through me. Nothing had prepared me for his news. The apartment building my husband had been replacing windows in for the past week or two had just had an exterminator come in that day for bed bugs. All week long my husband might have been bringing home something a lot worse than his dirty lunch containers.
Immediately, I began to feel itchy. My skin crawled as though a thousand tiny insect legs were walking all over my body. I felt ... dirty.
Bed bugs had been considered a thing of the past for so long, nothing but a creepy nursery rhyme to scare children with. But in recent years there's been a resurgence all over North America, occurrences steadily increasing. I'd heard it on the news a couple of times over the years but never paid much attention. Not anymore!
Suddenly, I became a google fiend, researching the disgusting critters on every source I could find. Next, came the cleaning. And oh, was there cleaning! Our bedroom has never been so spotless. I pulled out every piece of furniture, vacuumed every crevice, including every millimeter of our mattress. Every available surface and material was washed. Our entire house got the works.
And after hours of cleaning I can say with a fair amount of certainty that our house is bed bug free. But just to be certain, every day when my husband gets home, he strips and I wash all his clothes on the hottest possible setting while he showers.
It's amazing what you can take for granted without realizing it. It's been five days since my husband told me about the possibility of bed bugs, and I still get itchy just thinking about it. I frequently get overtaken by frenzied fits of cleaning and often find myself lifting the mattress just to make sure there's nothing hiding underneath.
I think it'll be a while before I sleep soundly again, but in the meantime I'm grateful for the little things... such as the lack of bloodsucking insects to bite me while I'm sleeping. I suppose I should thank them for making me a better housekeeper, but I'm not there yet. The paranoia will have to fade a bit first. About two years ought to do it.
I stared at my husband's solemn face as horror rolled through me. Nothing had prepared me for his news. The apartment building my husband had been replacing windows in for the past week or two had just had an exterminator come in that day for bed bugs. All week long my husband might have been bringing home something a lot worse than his dirty lunch containers.
Immediately, I began to feel itchy. My skin crawled as though a thousand tiny insect legs were walking all over my body. I felt ... dirty.
Bed bugs had been considered a thing of the past for so long, nothing but a creepy nursery rhyme to scare children with. But in recent years there's been a resurgence all over North America, occurrences steadily increasing. I'd heard it on the news a couple of times over the years but never paid much attention. Not anymore!
Suddenly, I became a google fiend, researching the disgusting critters on every source I could find. Next, came the cleaning. And oh, was there cleaning! Our bedroom has never been so spotless. I pulled out every piece of furniture, vacuumed every crevice, including every millimeter of our mattress. Every available surface and material was washed. Our entire house got the works.
And after hours of cleaning I can say with a fair amount of certainty that our house is bed bug free. But just to be certain, every day when my husband gets home, he strips and I wash all his clothes on the hottest possible setting while he showers.
It's amazing what you can take for granted without realizing it. It's been five days since my husband told me about the possibility of bed bugs, and I still get itchy just thinking about it. I frequently get overtaken by frenzied fits of cleaning and often find myself lifting the mattress just to make sure there's nothing hiding underneath.
I think it'll be a while before I sleep soundly again, but in the meantime I'm grateful for the little things... such as the lack of bloodsucking insects to bite me while I'm sleeping. I suppose I should thank them for making me a better housekeeper, but I'm not there yet. The paranoia will have to fade a bit first. About two years ought to do it.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
I'm not Stupid, Just Unobservant
Sometimes it takes a near death experiences to figure out what's really important to you. For example, a few weeks ago I was driving to work when I came across some train tracks. Now, I pass these train tracks every day, and lately, the red, blinking warning lights have been going off at random, blinking when the train is stopped or when there is no train at all. Just a couple of days before I'd sat at those lights for a full ten minutes, waiting for a train that never came.
So, on this particular morning, when I saw the lights flashing and the other drivers gliding over the tracks as though nothing were happening, I just did a quick cautionary pause before continuing. Now, this was a good idea. One can never be too careful, despite what everyone else is doing. However, it would have worked a lot better if I'd actually looked for the train, as opposed to taking a quick glance and driving on. As I crossed the tracks, I looked over, and there was the train lumbering towards me. I hit the gas and went over the tracks in record time, which was unnecessary, as it was moving at the speed of snail. I was several blocks away before it got to the place I'd crossed, but still, I couldn't help but picture the headlines if I'd died. I bet they'd have thought I tried to race the train, I realized. They would say I was an impatient idiot who thought she could beat the train, who couldn't bear to wait. How unfair! I wasn't impatient! I was just unobservant!
The whole way to work I berated myself for not paying more attention, angry that I'd almost wound up with an untrue euology. "Oh, if only she'd been a little more patient! Why did she think she could beat the train?" Ugh. Perish the thought. And that's when it hit me. I wasn't worried about nearly being hit by a train. I was worried that if I was, they wouldn't know why. I was more concerned with my reputation than my own life. Clearly, my priorities are a little messed up. Although on the bright side, now I always look both ways before crossing the train tracks. So there's that.
So, on this particular morning, when I saw the lights flashing and the other drivers gliding over the tracks as though nothing were happening, I just did a quick cautionary pause before continuing. Now, this was a good idea. One can never be too careful, despite what everyone else is doing. However, it would have worked a lot better if I'd actually looked for the train, as opposed to taking a quick glance and driving on. As I crossed the tracks, I looked over, and there was the train lumbering towards me. I hit the gas and went over the tracks in record time, which was unnecessary, as it was moving at the speed of snail. I was several blocks away before it got to the place I'd crossed, but still, I couldn't help but picture the headlines if I'd died. I bet they'd have thought I tried to race the train, I realized. They would say I was an impatient idiot who thought she could beat the train, who couldn't bear to wait. How unfair! I wasn't impatient! I was just unobservant!
The whole way to work I berated myself for not paying more attention, angry that I'd almost wound up with an untrue euology. "Oh, if only she'd been a little more patient! Why did she think she could beat the train?" Ugh. Perish the thought. And that's when it hit me. I wasn't worried about nearly being hit by a train. I was worried that if I was, they wouldn't know why. I was more concerned with my reputation than my own life. Clearly, my priorities are a little messed up. Although on the bright side, now I always look both ways before crossing the train tracks. So there's that.
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