No, this isn’t a political diatribe. It’s just me whining about having a sore throat.
For instance, it’s really hard to get your teenage daughter out of bed when you can’t holler at her. Pulling the blankets off is a good second to that, but the exertion makes me dizzy.
So then I notice, after the room has stopped spinning, that there are CLOTHES on the floor. This would be the floor that we spent the entire weekend uncovering. Not that there was carpet there – we just removed the clothes, trash and toys and found the wood floor again. And here it is, Tuesday morning, and the stuff is beginning to creep back. So I wagged my index finger at her and pointed at it. And I glared. She didn’t seem to be getting it and merely pulled the blanket back up, so I wagged BOTH index fingers at her and screwed up my mouth while glaring. She laughed and said I looked like the scary farmer’s wife in Ladyhawke. So I pulled the blanket off her again, which made her yelp, but I’m not convinced even now that she actually has both feet on the floor yet. I think I’ll grab the squirt bottle of water we use to discipline the dog and revisit her.
As for the other kids, who are up but have not found their books yet, I think I’ll ring a bell at them. That’ll teach ’em.