Hospital-ity

My front door needs a sign reading, "Plague House," decorated with a skull and crossbones. Note to readers: IF YOU COME INSIDE, YOU WILL GET SICK. Brother-in-law and mother-in-law have stayed two days later than planned, while BIL heaved and hoed in our guest bathroom. They ship out tomorrow for FLA, after which you may glimpse me through the window (BUT DON'T COME OVER!) in my Hazmat suit, sanitizing the house.

I think it was Valentine's Day when this crazy ride all began with my illness I assumed was food poisoning. DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT COMING OVER, PEOPLE. YOU'RE NOT INVITED. After I bounced back, N got it. Then D and AC got it. Then my dad (visiting from ALA). Then my BIL (visiting from FLA). Then our babysitter (visiting from down the block). Then our nephew (visiting from Jersey). NO MORE GUESTS. Forgot to mention my pink-eye and the handful of family colds within this six week span. Oh yeah, and major surgery for one of the dogs.

Nine weeks until beach vacation. Nine weeks until beach vacation. Nine weeks until beach vacation. ...

p.s. I got some work done against all odds this week. MIL watched the kids while I went to Lowe's to get some garden supplies. Lesson learned: if you want good service, go on a weekday morning. And wear a tight sweater.

p.p.s. Should I be upset that the orthopedic surgeon did not look at the MRI films or even read the MRI report I brought him today? He assigned me some stretches and a return appointment in 6 weeks. Believe me, I'm fine with stretches.