The Dangerous Existence of Madame Lee

My grandmother had cataract surgery on the 8th, and she seems to be recovering well; she's a little blurry in the eye where she had had the cataract, but the doctor said that was to be expected and it should abate once the swelling goes down. The lolmom is not in such good shape; she was congested and sniffly in Florida, and also managed to get conjunctivitis and had to go to one of those urgent-care places. Plus, people have been calling me about the Baccalaureate Mass, which Mom stage-manages every year, and I have no clue what to tell them.

I'm not in such great shape, either. I went out with Ainsley last week, to the Edgewater Grille, which was delicious, and she's been battling something off and on which has caused her to miss a lot of work. Subsequently, I got sick-sore throat, aches (much ameliorated by the simple expedient of "not sleeping on the damn couch every night"), slight runny nose. I am congested and my throat hurts like hell and everything tastes like phlegm. My number one priority is "not hacking up a lung". The Pains texted me to say she thinks she has the flu. I called in today, but if I miss any more work because of this, I shall kill her. The DayQuil is helping but not a whole lot; we used to have something with codeine in it, but Mom took it to Florida and finished it there.

(Incidentally, we have a fangirl. Wanda was all, "So Ainsley says sometimes you guys hang out together outside of work," and I said, yes, we do. Whereupon Wanda was all, "…can I come hang out with you?" Awww.)

Also, the garbage disposal is completely borked. We have some sort of magical under-the-sink leak going on, which I didn't find out about until a couple of nights ago, when I was just trying to clean up the kitchen, for God's sake. And then I got out the bread, and found that apparently our mouse woes are not over yet. I hope the little fucker asphyxiated on the plastic bread wrapper and died in agony. OH THE EXCITEMENTS, THEY NEVER STOP I TELL YOU.

Also also, I am trying not to become unduly paranoid about an abnormally dry patch of skin on my chest; I have dry skin, and it is probably angry with me because I keep pumicing it off and picking at it and unduly irritating it, so I'm trying to make myself leave it alone and see what happens. In all probability, it's just one of those rough patches you get for no apparent reason and then it goes away again as mysteriously as it came. I like that thought better than some of the alternatives. (See under "a little knowledge is a dangerous thing", apparently.)

(PS: I think I may also be getting conjunctivitis. Mom hasn't been home two hours and she told me she wasn't contagious. FOR FUCK'S SAKE.)