So, how's everybody doing? I'm a mess. My chronic fatigue (yes, I own it) is back again with a super vengeance, worse than before and I am a true believer in this disease. Yesterday I literally couldn't get up till after 1 pm.
The other day I had to go put my big dog back in the $8000 fence we had built, because he can climb it like a cat and does when it rains because he's a big wuss. So I drug him (or he drug me) back to the back, where I tied him up and then I hauled it back to the house just as Bill drove up. Toby, our little Butt-dog, had escaped on me, covered with mud. (Here's a couple of pictures of said dogs, we have two others. Four dogs, how crazy are we? And they are all very spoiled dogs, too. High maintenance).
I told Bill to call Toby, then I fell on the couch to catch my breath, which usually takes about ten minutes.
Instead of putting Toby back in said $8000 fence, he chose to bring him in, complaining and blustering, to give him a bath. (Bill was complaining and blustering, Toby was squirming). He yelled, "will you go get me the dog brush downstairs?"
I yelled, "no." I could have explained that I'd just come back in the house from fighting Shelby into submission and that I couldn't even breathe, let alone go downstairs, but Bill is hard of hearing, the water was running in the bathtub (I was too short of breath to protest that one) and I knew he couldn't hear me,
so I just yelled, "no."
Then he came stomping through after shutting Toby up in the bathroom, there was all this pounding and bumping going on in there, I despair for my bathroom. He went downstairs and got the brush and yelled, "what's the matter with you?" I just lied (I don't know the proper word, so I'm picking one, you get the picture) there, beyond caring, catching my breath.
My husband drives me crazy, but that's for another story. He came to himself, apologized, and the dog was all clean, my bathroom less so, but let me tell you guys, this illness is for real.
They said in chronic fatigue circles: "the good news is, you're not gonna die, and the bad news is, you're not gonna die." You don't even look like you're dying, you look in the pink, you just feel like you're dying.
Well, that's how I am, and that's why I'm falling down on the blogging job. I miss you guys. How you doing?