Today we did like regular sick-kid-in-Connecticut things. Which isn't much. It took me ages to wake up this morning, like I was drugged beyond belief, unable to open my eyes or talk, as though I was still asleep. And then we trudged to Costco to pick up a prescription, but the pharmacy isn't open on Sundays, as lame as that is. And then we went to Jo-ann's which is this really cool craft store with like tons of fabric and beads and scrapbook stuff and we looked around for a while at the beads and stuff, which was pretty fun. But it is nothing like the bead shop, near Douglas St that I love so much. Bead World is it called? I totally can't remember, which is pissing me off, but they have all these beads in little trays and you buy the beads by the beads, which means you can customize to the max, and poke your fingers in the little trays and have the beads slide all around, which is really fun. That's so good times.
Okay, okay, so like go back a year. It was the first of February when I went to the doctor (like just my family doc, nobody special, or a fantastic clinician clearly) and told me I had pneumonia - now isn't that a wicked cool word - and bronchitis and handed me a prescription and I waltzed out the door, coughing up a lung. I was out of school for a really long time, and never went back 'full time'. I haven't been to school consecutively for a whole year. And I miss it like someone cut off my arm in my sleep and I wasn't prepared for it at all and wonder 'what-the-hell-happened-to-my-arm' everyday. It's been 525,600 minutes since I've been to school full time and I'm still counting. I'm still counting. And the chances of me counting out more is likely. I totally want to say 'surprise I'm coming home next week blahblahblah' but I would be totally lying - which majorly sucks. Not gonna lie.
That number is like uber uber important. Five-hundred-twenty-five-thousand-six-hundred-minutes...five-hundred-twenty-five-thousand-six-hundred-minutes...five-hundred-twenty-five-thousand-six-hundred-minutes. However you slice it, however you dress it up, it's still a year. A year too long.