I've been sick since the snowstorm, so I went to my usual doctor (who I'm really starting to dislike) on Wednesday. He told me that it was just my asthma that was exacerbated, gave me a steroid inhaler, and told me to move on with my life. I was suspicious that it was only asthma, but also don't want to be one of Those People that demands unnecessary antibiotics.
Out of love for me (and also love for his own sleep, I suppose) Chris took me to urgent care this morning. The doctor was awesome, and actually did things like, you know, LISTEN TO MY LUNGS. Diagnosis? Sinus infection and the very beginnings of bronchitis. In addition to giving me an arsenal of prescriptions, she also recommended a new doctor that's closer to my house and better at doctoring. Thank you, Urgent Care Doctor.
So I've been hanging out on the sofa for the majority of the week, interspersed with periods of trying to work. My activities include coughing, drinking hot tea, worshiping the humidifier, and sounding like I should work as a call girl for a 900 number.
Fortunately for me, my husband has been awesome about making dinner, getting stuff from the store, and cleaning the house while I've been under the weather. A real gem, that Chris Brown!
Keeping me entertained is one Johnny Weir, who has been commentating the 2016 European Figure Skating Championship. He also recently landed in Rio for something Olympics-related. Keep in mind that he grew up in Pennsylvania and studied in Russia, so he's apparently a bit warm. He reports that he brought 147 hangers, 52 shorts, 37 pairs of shoes, 26 bathing suits, 9 hats, 9 suitcases, 8 cans of mosquito repellent, 3 pounds of jewels, and 2 mosquito bracelets. I don't even own FIVE pairs of shorts, let alone 52. I do own 3 pounds of jewels, but alas, they do not include any mosquito bracelets.
ANYWAY, please enjoy some of his outfits from his time commentating recently:
I can't get behind this one. The vest looks like a McCall's 1980's Learning to Sew pattern. The turtleneck doesn't do it for me, and we all know my feeling on shooties, even though the two Europeans on my team keep pressuring me to buy some.
I feel like this is Johnny at his best. I wish I could get a dress made of the print that's on Johnny's...shirt? Dress?
I'm pretty sure this is the outfit the outfit the Disney workers at the Tower of Terror wear, and he's combined it with a Michael Jackson glove. No. Thank. You.
This is my favorite. It has ALL the ruffles, and ALL the sequins, and ALL the wedge heels. You Do You, Johnny Weir!
And finally, I'm lamenting that my awesome trainer got an awesome new (non personal trainer) job elsewhere, because she is so amazing and inspires me to be a better person. Being my trainer is hard work, and involves the following:
Out of love for me (and also love for his own sleep, I suppose) Chris took me to urgent care this morning. The doctor was awesome, and actually did things like, you know, LISTEN TO MY LUNGS. Diagnosis? Sinus infection and the very beginnings of bronchitis. In addition to giving me an arsenal of prescriptions, she also recommended a new doctor that's closer to my house and better at doctoring. Thank you, Urgent Care Doctor.
So I've been hanging out on the sofa for the majority of the week, interspersed with periods of trying to work. My activities include coughing, drinking hot tea, worshiping the humidifier, and sounding like I should work as a call girl for a 900 number.
Keeping me entertained is one Johnny Weir, who has been commentating the 2016 European Figure Skating Championship. He also recently landed in Rio for something Olympics-related. Keep in mind that he grew up in Pennsylvania and studied in Russia, so he's apparently a bit warm. He reports that he brought 147 hangers, 52 shorts, 37 pairs of shoes, 26 bathing suits, 9 hats, 9 suitcases, 8 cans of mosquito repellent, 3 pounds of jewels, and 2 mosquito bracelets. I don't even own FIVE pairs of shorts, let alone 52. I do own 3 pounds of jewels, but alas, they do not include any mosquito bracelets.
ANYWAY, please enjoy some of his outfits from his time commentating recently:
I can't get behind this one. The vest looks like a McCall's 1980's Learning to Sew pattern. The turtleneck doesn't do it for me, and we all know my feeling on shooties, even though the two Europeans on my team keep pressuring me to buy some.
I feel like this is Johnny at his best. I wish I could get a dress made of the print that's on Johnny's...shirt? Dress?
I'm pretty sure this is the outfit the outfit the Disney workers at the Tower of Terror wear, and he's combined it with a Michael Jackson glove. No. Thank. You.
This is my favorite. It has ALL the ruffles, and ALL the sequins, and ALL the wedge heels. You Do You, Johnny Weir!
And finally, I'm lamenting that my awesome trainer got an awesome new (non personal trainer) job elsewhere, because she is so amazing and inspires me to be a better person. Being my trainer is hard work, and involves the following:
- Supplying me with pony tail holders, towels, deodorant, and even shoes when I forget mine. Yes, shoes. Seriously, I'm a mess.
- Procuring fans for when I overheat, or in a pinch, fanning me with a mat.
- Handling whatever trauma I walk in with, which ranges from the hilarious "OMG, I just had to tell an employee to stop watching adult videos that feature Shrek on a company laptop" to infuriated "and THEN the supplier said he didn't work with 'gals' and could he speak to a man!" and turning it in to something positive
- Ignoring my constant negotiations to avoid pushups and burpees
- Listening to me talk about the British Monarchy. A lot.
- Not laughing when I fall off the TRX and look like a mangled seal and then I make seal noises.
So good luck to my new trainer (who I will see as soon as I'm better). You're gonna need it. Also, bring pony tail holders and a fan.
Finally, my people, I am $150 away from my Krispy Kreme Challenge goal. If I could get six fabulous donors to give $25, or three extra fabulous donors to give $50, I'll be there! Even though I can't practice my running right now, today I did practice my doughnut eating. (These are the sacrifices I'm willing to make.)