Help me out here, loyal reader. What is the universe trying to tell me? Ease up on the Budweiser? Laundry sucks? Time to spend a day stoned and sitting on a heating pad?
You will now be directed to today's Chicago Parent where I wrote something before I became incapacitated. I thought about crafting a lengthy blog on the under-rated genius of Nutella, but that would only be the pain-killers talking. I'm on my 2nd jar. Costco sells them in 2-packs. Right around the corner from all their weight-loss products. Coincidence?
The biggest reason I could never become a Vicodin addict is all the itching. I nearly scratched my eyes out last night. When I was given pain-killers after my c-sections, I rubbed my nose damn near off my face, and it was days before doctors finally threw me some Benadryl.
Back to Chicago Parent. If I'm remembering this correctly, I believe I wrote something about homework and my withdrawal of parental involvement. Too much fighting. The skirmishes were getting intense. Daniel was starting to embrace incorrect answers just to watch my head explode.
Oh, wait. Maybe that's the reason for this swift karmic justice. Impatient mom = crippling punishment from God.
Got it. Thanks, Universe. You suck.
|This is called irony. I actually took my Vicodin with water, but don't think this option didn't cross my mind.|