Candy-Assed

I don't know if I can do this job. I came home after five hours today. The smoke is so thick, visibility is at one mile. My lungs have been hurting since Sunday. They really ache today.

I suppose I shouldn't feel like a wimp for not getting enough oxygen to do physical labor during a Stage II Air Quality Alert. I do, though.

... and the Shaws just showed up. Guess it's a good thing I came home early.

In Short

I'm childless for a week. The boys are in Idaho with their father, grandmother, and a lot less smoke. I'm also about to start my period. Ain't that just the way. (In case you're wondering how those things are connected: sex makes the world go 'round, baby.)

When Dumbass and his mother knocked on the door, I was so out of it that I didn't recognize Dumbass. I recognized his mother and then realized who he was. It took me a while to figure out how to respond to their presence. (Oh, right. Go get the boys from their day camp. Okay.) We had lunch. I was even less talkative than I usually am with them, due to being exhausted and feeling like my lungs were (are) filled with silly putty. As is usually the case, my outer silence was more than made up for by my inner dialogue. As is usually the case around either ex-husband, the inner dialogue consisted mostly of profanity.

I'm going to bed now. I need Prednisone. I'm going to give the inhalers a couple more days, then call the doc and ask for pills.