Well, friends, I'm finally back. Poor Chris was a single dad all weekend while I lay miserably on the couch, feverish and weak. He gave me the "luxury" of being sick without having to tend children. He's a saint, that man.
It's odd that illness kicks my butt so thoroughly; usually I'm up and about in a day or so. After a visit to the doctor, it seems I either have Strep throat or Hand, Foot and Mouth. Ewww!
The weekend was a blur, between those sick, hallucinogenic dreams and watching way too much Netflix (Tiny Furniture, not worth it, Breaking Bad: Season 4, definitely), but it maybe was a way of telling me that I just need to sink into cushions and do nothing else. Leave it to illness to force us to rest. And to unwavering, supportive husbands to facilitate it, while hanging out laundry on the line, cleaning the kitchen and taking the kids to his in-laws, alone.