Alright.. so ya girl has been out of commission for awhile. Not to say that I am blaming my antiblogging on this cold/death certificate but why not? I have been sick since Tuesday, yes looking at the calendar that would have been October 2, 2007. Since I work in an office any germs that the (non-blacks) tend to cough into the atmosphere have strategically placed themselves on my face. I caught whatever "bug" was going around and did a half day. On Wednesday I called off of work because for some reason.. waking up every hour on the hour and hacking up a piece of my lung was just not becoming to me.

I will admit.. I, Isis am a HUGE baby when I am sick. So after coughing, gagging, choking and wheezing all day my boo decided to come over and take care of me. He came over that night around 7 p.m. while I was laying on the floor in front of the t.v. surrounded by balled up tissues, a glass of orange juice and a package of H.alls. When he walked in the first thing he said was "awww my baby is sick." That was all the attention I needed for me to poke my bottom lip out and muster a faint.. "mm hmm." So while he made soup, refilled my glass of orange juice, made green tea, rubbed my back and handed me tissue I still felt like dying.. but was loved.

I know I made it difficult for him to sleep since I was working on hacking up my kidneys in between 2-5 a.m. and everytime I jumped out of the bed he woke up and asked me if I was ok. The coughing spells and him rubbing my lower back and holding me when I did drift off to sleep. Bless his heart though.. he won cool points with me for that one.

Thursday, me being me I decided I might be able to go to work so I went and ended up (almost) dying at my desk so I did a half day and went home again. Friday I decided that I was not going to go to work and went over my grandma's house cause frankly.. mama is mama and she's going to make it all better. Saturday and Sunday I felt better and here I am today on a damn holiday where my job is open and coughing up a fibula.

Not to mention on Saturday I spent a good 2 and a half hours taking down these itty bitty braids on my boo's daughter's head. Now granted.. she's 4-years old and won't sit still unless I played 'O.pen S.eason" back to back. Getting the braids down wasn't half the battle, the battle was trying to comb out that mess. OMG. Between her onstant "ow's" and me saying "sit still girl". Her head looked like M.artin when G.ina found him at the cult and he was rocking half braids and half fro' and I just could not take it anymore. After that, I gave her the comb and told her to ask her daddy to finish. I know that was wrong .. but I was still coughing and not feeling that well to battle a 4-year old and a head full of hair.

So here I am.. with a hoody on and a wastebasket full of tissues wishing you all a nice Holiday!