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Poor Wittle Wyan

I called home before leaving work yesterday and got a weak little voice on the other end of the phone informing me of illness. Poor wittle Wyan had a tummy ache. There is nothing worse than a man slightly ill. You�d think the world ended. He couldn�t bear to get up to get himself a couple of aspirin to battle his POUNDING headache, but he sure could tell me all about it in a weak pathetic little voice. I did feel bad for him, and was a good wife and got him the aspirin and kept his glass of water clean and full and eventually force-fed him some chicken noodle soup, but give me a break. The guy puked but didn�t clean up the mess on the toilet. We had to have the �we�re adults now, and we clean up our own messes� talk.

To make the evening even more fun, the water filter in the fridge froze and burst sometime during the day. I didn�t realize this until I was standing in a small pool of water in front of it in my socks trying to unload the groceries I�d just bought. Joy. It isn�t even that cold out, but my fridge must have kicked on to high gear on its own because I also had a shelf full of Diet Sprite slushies. Had the limes not frozen in the crisper drawer, I would�ve had one hella Diet Sprite limeade. Yummy.

This morning involved the continuation of cleaning out the fridge and the dropping off of the wedding dress at the dry cleaners to pay an arm and a leg to have it preserved at museum quality. I am quite positive that this exercise will be futile and that no one will wear that dress ever again. I mean what are the odds that someone related to me will be cursed with my midget like stature. The dress is a 4 petite with an additional 3 inches chopped off of it. Of course I was on 4 inch heels, so at best, a 5�4� girl wearing flats could borrow my dress. I�m 5�1�, Ryan is 6�2�. I guess we�ll see.

Ryan isn�t working this week, but is feeling better, so he decided he wanted access to high speed internet access and is sitting across from me in my office. This was nice for the first three minutes and 26 seconds, but then he started asking questions about whether we should get satellite or cable TV, and then out of the little tin can speakers on my laptop came the noises associated with car dealerships and he began chattering about 1.8 vs. 3.0 started. We�ve only been here an hour and a half and he�s asked three times if I�m ready to go home. I am supposed to be working, and have been as best I can. We�ll see how long it lasts. I just snapped this picture of him. He has no idea why. Maybe now that I�m making fun of him he�ll start reading my journal on a regular basis.

Hee! I just realized something. When I was a kid and I wasn�t feeling well, I sometimes ended up sleeping on the floor or sitting in a chair in my mom�s office while she worked. Her co-workers marveled at the amount of Mountain Dew I could drink. It was only 25 cents and still came in the glass bottles, and it was sometimes a bit slushy, too. Funny how things come full circle all in one day.

1:22 p.m. - December 29, 2004

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