Breathing Underwater

I kind of fizzled over the weekend. That seems to have become a pattern with me; I bust my butt all week at work, can't sleep nights, then wind up crashing (and usually having some sort of illness) over the weekends. This past weekend was no different. I've been battling a sinus infection for a while, and it apparently has decided it wants to move into my lungs. I've felt like I've been breathing underwater for days.

There for a while, my sinus infection seemed to be doing better. Mama Tooz and Daddy Dave gave me a nasal asperating thingie (basically a neti pot, but less breakable) and I was using it daily. Then parts of it disappeared. I used it one morning, handwashed the innards of it, and laid them out to dry. Jamie got home before me and started doing dishes, as he'd been instructed. Normally, I'd be jumping up and down for joy that he actually did something he was supposed to. But when I came home from work, the innards were missing. We didn't see them on the floor, couldn't see them in the crack between the dishwasher and refrigerator.... Nowhere. Since he lost the top and the tube that carries the saline from the bottle up to and through my nose, it is now unusable. A couple of days later, the infection started kicking in with a vengeance, then migrated south to my lungs.

Because I've felt craptastic all weekend, Jamie got to help me do some necessary fixes around the house. The funky, spinny, roof vent thingamabobbers had come off their spindles, and the wind blew them off their holes at about a 45-degree angle. This meant that any rain could get into the attic, possibly causing mold. Unfortunately, there is also a hole in the garage ceiling that is right below one of the roof spinny thingies, and under that hole in the ceiling is where the washer and dryer (and, ergo, the electrical outlets for the washer and dryer) sit. Rain would not be a good thing to introduce to the electrical outlets. We were forecasted to receive (and did receive) rain over the weekend and into this week. So, we borrowed a ladder from the neighbor, and under my close supervision, Jamie got to go up and fix them for me.

Of course, "supervision" meant I took pictures of him up there, and made sure he didn't fall completely off the roof should be come tumbing down. He was very excited and enthusiastic about being up there. Considering I was several years younger than him when my brother and I used to beat the crap out of each other with cane poles on the ridgeline of our three story house, I didn't see much harm in him climbing up on a single story house to fix the doohickeys.

Fixing doohicky number 1

Fixing doohicky number 2

He was much more enthusiastic about getting up there and looking around the neighborhood than he was about getting down. When it came time for him to swing his legs around and feel for the ladder, he announced emphatically, "I'm just going to stay up here. I don't want to get down. I don't want to get down! I can't get down! You can't make me!" By this point he was screaming, while I was snickering (and coughing) into my sleeve. Finally, I was able to get him down with minimal screaming and no destruction of gutters, roof, ladder or boy. I then rewarded him with a cup of hot chocolate.

Other than that, we did nothing all weekend. Food consisted of soup and sandwiches and whatever else Jamie could fix himself. I'm marginally better today (well, better enough to come to work). I'm hoping Mucinex will loosen enough of this crud to get it all out. I can't afford to go to the doctor, so I'll be fighting this with OTC medicines and spicy food to clear out the sinuses.
Jamie's spring break is next week, so I'm hoping to be feeling well enough that we actually get to do something on his spring break, instead of me spending my vacation days at home in bed, being miserable.