Newfound Bitchiness

I’m sick.  And not just a little bit.

It started out as an allergy attack on Wednesday.  By Thursday I was on a mad hunt for drugs, even going so low as to coerce The BF to share his.  It turns out I had a refill, so I picked up my meds at Longs and went home victorious.  Only the allergies had progressed into a cold and the antihistamine was totally ineffective against my new set of symptoms.  I muddled through work on Friday.  My cold turned into a sinus infection, or at least that’s what my headache told me.  By Friday evening I was in no mood to celebrate, which was a terrible thing because it was The BF’s birthday.  I rallied my spirits tolerably and wrapped his gifts, but after he opened them I had not an ounce of energy left.  I succumbed to the illness and let the birthday boy take care of me.

Here’s where I stooped to all sorts of bitchiness…

The BF claimed that despite my sickness he enjoyed his birthday in the exact way that he wanted—us on the couch with $60 worth of Chinese take-out.  Being the wretched girlfriend that I am, I didn’t even make the brownie sundaes I had promised.  After a fitful night’s sleep, I settled on the couch and turned into a whiny patient (minus any kind of patience).  I screamed for coffee because it’s good for asthma and I needed a big heaping dose of caffeine.  I complained about the service and the response time.  I got up off the couch and nagged about the preparation.  I tore open a packet of Sweet & Lo and frothed the milk myself because he was taking too frakking long.

I am a loathsome creature.  After the first few drops of coffee hit my mouth I acquiesced into my more stable self.  I managed to spend the rest of the afternoon not being a bitch, but it’s really sad that I think I should be rewarded for that.  Then we went shopping for Mother’s Day.  My frightfully low tolerance for indecision reared its ugly head.  I mustered all the compassion I had and pointed The BF to an appropriate gift.  But don’t nominate me for sainthood or anything just yet.  After all, I made him buy his own gift-wrap.  Even though I have a stockpile at home, I didn’t feel like sharing it with him and his mother.  I know!  Seriously, I am an evil woman!

What is wrong with me—aside from the fact that my infection seems to have settled in my chest (Yay!  Bronchitis!) and I have to spend my entire Sunday in the middle of BFN with a set of ‘rents that so don’t “get me” and two teenage boys that have disturbingly poor hygiene and pretend I’m not in the room unless I’m picking on them?

Oh, I guess there is nothing else wrong…

Currently playing:  Everything but the Girl, Big Deal


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