I have either a crappy cold or crappy allergies. I can't tell. Either way, I woke up yesterday wondering when I had smoked half a pack of cigarettes and why I couldn't remember doing so. My throat is terribly raw and I have the day-after-smoking cough. It teeters between productivity and un-productivity, which is the worst sounding kind of cough. And I didn't even get the pleasure of smoking the cigarettes.
So I stayed home from church for the first time since... well, probably for the first time since I actually did smoke a bunch of cigarettes the night before.* Matt went without me; which made me feel a little lonely and like I should have gone, but it made me happy that I have a husband that still goes even when I don't. I laid on the couch and read a bit of this smutty Scottish fantasy time traveling novel that some girls from church are into, and then promptly fell asleep and stayed asleep pretty much until Matt got home.
Then we went out to my parents' house and enjoyed baking in the sun with some beers and most of my family. I gave my mom Artisan Bread in Five Minutes A Day with the inscription we loaf you. My brother gave her a sweet little teapot that he got in China. My sister made lunch.
Now Matt has left me to go get Chinese food because I'm feeling too puny to cook. What a keeper! Back to my novel.
Happy Mothers' Day to all mothers, in body and soul.
*I know that I haven't chosen the correct mood/tense here but I wonder if there even is one for this grammatical situation.