Sunday musings

My time is up for being sick. I'm sure you all have the same issue; there is a certain amount of time that I can be sick before my household devolves into chaos, litter boxes need cleaning, crunchy floors need vacuuming and sweeping, laundry needs washing, and the Earth may actually stop its rotation if I am not better and out of bed.

For me, it's 2 1/2 days and my 2 1/2 days are up. I knew this yesterday while I was popping cold medicine every four hours and drinking 50-11 cups of tea with honey. Tick tock, you must get well because two- and four-legged creatures are depending on you. That's just the way it is with "moms"--using the broadest sense of the term--the person who keeps the house going--making sure everyone is fed, watered, vaccinated, and eats fresh fruit and vegetables, that furnace filters are changed, bathrooms are cleaned, and birthday cards are sent. It's not the banks who are too big to fail that keep the world going, it's the great uncredited "moms" that are too necessary to be sick.

So when two- and four-legged creatures wake up and someone remembered to buy bandaids, gives you hairball medicine, knows where the instructions for the six-year old lawnmower are, has shirts ironed on Sunday for you to wear on Monday, retrieves favorite toys from underneath the stove, and oh yeah, the Earth is still rotating, remember who is behind all this and give a little thanks. Purring is accepted.