The Queen's Rambles

Remember when you were a little kid or even a junior high student and you had to write essays about The Future and you were all “Everyone will have a flying car! And our desks will have computers in them! And we’ll be wearing jet packs!”

Did anyone imagine that we could watch streaming TV whenever we wanted on our laptops while we were laying in bed? And that you could instantly update everyone you’ve ever met with your status as a lay-about? And that you could even post pictures of your status practically instantly? Not that I’ve done that former part, but I know I never imagined such a thing as digital photography.

All said, I think our current sci-fi world is better than flying cars.

Have I mentioned that I’m sick of bed rest? Because I am. But there is no way I am going up and down the stairs until I am 100% positive this infection is gone. I don’t want to wind up on bed rest next week after my mom leaves.

I am feeling much better, so that’s a relief. I didn’t realize how sick I was until I wasn’t sick any more. I just thought my red, inflamed incision was part razor burn from the awful dry shave they gave me and part allergic reaction to the tape. I’m not so bright sometimes.

We’ve started using cloth diapers again now that Elsa’s diaper rash is gone. So far none of us are impressed. I hope it gets better or I am going to go cry myself a river. I do not like leakage. Mike does not like bulkiness. My mom does not like running the dryer for 150 hours a day (it is raining, so no line drying for us).

Hopefully we will learn how to do it faster and better without as much leakage as the weeks go by. I guess you can’t really judge something like that by the first few days, though it seems silly to think that diapering a baby requires a learning curve.

What else?

A big fat nothing!

I think I may have just made my YouTube premiere. I looked out the window and noticed the neighbor boy and his friends are making a video of twirling their rifles around. I sincerely hope the camera didn’t pan up to my window. No one needs to see my make-shift receiving blanket bra with my boobies hanging all akimbo. There are no pads think enough to contain the leak of these engorged boobs. At least things are rock hard and gravelly any more, but it will still be awhile before the supply and demand even out.

Oh man! I was just clicking over on Facebook and noticed that one of my former teacher co-workers had a comment from one of my former students, so I had to click through to see her profile. I feel very old. One of my silliest, most immature freshman has a child older than Erik. And she still looks silly and immature. Which, I suppose, explains why she has a kid older than Erik. Silly and immature can be fun and innocent, but she was always manipulative, bratty and searching for something that didn’t seem to exist.

Have I ever mentioned that I’m glad I’m no longer a teacher?

Just imagine how disjointed this post would be if I was still taking my percocet. I’m trying to wean myself off it and have been pretty ok today. That stuff makes me dumb as a rock. Mike and my mom find it both funny and frustrating. They come in and ask me basic questions and I can only come up with one answer: “I don’t know.” They think I should know stuff, but my brain is just a blank. I can’t remember anything. I would not make a very good drug addict, but I guess drug addicts like drugs because they like that disconnect from reality.

I just want chocolate. That’s the only drug I need.