Me: I’m siiiiiccckkkkkkkkk (he already knew this. I’ve said it four thousand times since the doctor called back to say that Peyton’s strep test was positive. Then my imaginary test would be, too. I’m sick. I got in bed and waited for it to hit me. And it did! I either really have it or really have an awesome case of conversion disorder, either way, awesome. Awesome sick)
Lance: I knoooooooooowwwww. I think I’ll take a nap now.
Me: I. will. stab. you.
That last part didn’t happen that way. He did take a nap though. It doesn’t matter how long it wasn’t. It was a nap. And I was the one who had decided to be sick first.
Me: I need to write my living will right now before I slip into a coma. I have some new provisions.
Lance: Hospital sex?
Me: Gross. Of course that’s what you’d think about if I were in a coma. And that’s already in there. Couldn’t be that much different than it is in real life… No. I want to make sure NO ONE touches my mustache. I figure it’s the only way that I’ll be able to see how long it is. I can’t go more than two days in real life before it’s quite embarrassing. But if it turns out that there’s circus quality hair there, I think we should know.
Lance: Gross. Back to this sex clause.
Me: Sex Clause. Like the sinful version of Santa Clause. Gross. I’d also like a peg leg provision. I’m serious about this. Those robotic appendages are creepy.
Lance: We’ve been over this. There’s too much impact with a wooden leg. You need something to absorb the shock. Pogo stick legs. That’s what I could do for you.
Me: Well there really would be no need for TWO pogo legs, just have them sew my legs together and make it one giant pogo stick.
Lance: That would probably negate the sex clause.
Me: Oooh! If I lost both legs they could just go ahead and make me a mermaid! Dreams do come true!
My husband, who is lovingly reading this over my shoulder to make sure I got the details right is reminding me that not every child dreams to one day become a mermaid and that I need to give you the background information in this area. I told him that he needs to stop telling me what to do. Then he pulled my hair. Anyways, when I was little when asked what I wanted to be on ANYTHING I said, “mermaid”. If I hadn’t left all of my old journals and baby books back in a storage facility in Washington, I’d have proof for you. “What do you want to be when you grow up?” “A mermaid.” “If you could have anything in this world what would it be?” “fins”. It wasn’t until I was in my late twenties (like two weeks ago) that I saw how Dolphins copulate that I even thought about NOT wanting to have fins. But that really wasn’t a deterrent. I don’t like sex that much anyways.
This post would be so much better if I had the drawings I had of myself when I was little as a mermaid. Damn. Instead, I have one that I drew of me just now:
Peg legs. Lance will just have to figure something out.