I was at Lo Batt, yesterday. A fraction of my general energy. And most of that is due to mucous.
Funny how having goop in your tubes causes you to not breathe properly.
But despite the Lo Batt status, I still managed to do all the firkin washing up and get a dinner on. I didn't have the energies to go shopping for supplies.
Knowing this, I messaged my lifemate. The love of my lifetime. Co-parental to our children. My Best-Beloved. To secure said supplies for me. And maybe a real easy dinner.
Time passes. I trust. I wait.
It's wall time. I give Chaos the task of prepping dinner and hope for the best. We have to improvise something (it turned out real good, actually) and call it a night.
The kids go to sleep.
I go to sleep.
Radio firkin silence from Beloved. Which is really really annoying.
Today, though, having horked up roughly a quarter cup of chunks [not an actual measurement, dear readers. I'm not adulterating my measuring cups for this shit] in the wee small hours, I actually have more access to oxygen, today.
Therefore, after the Brat Run, I shall be taking an excursion to the local shops for essential supplies, an easy dinner, and maybe something to help me with this gorram bug.
I may chew out Beloved later. It looks like they had a long and frustrating night.