Enough about the school district, school closures, recipes, how-to’s, product and book reviews (I have a backlog that I still am not reviewing anytime soon, but will someday, sorry), the remodeling, the kids who will just not stop screaming and whining (hmm — wonder who they get that from?), etc. OK, I will say one thing, cuz I know the anticipation has been killing you — THE TILE IS ALL DONE! I EVEN TOOK PICTURES TO POST! But I can’t because I am just too toasted. So deal. Also, the tile guy is so nice and now hates my neighbor more than I do. Cuz her yard stinks. And she stinks. And she was rude to him. My tile guy, who is pulling this whole long, sad, way overdue project together and ta-da!

Don’t be rude to my tile guy, damn, what the hell is wrong with you, Neighbor from Hell?

(PS — Not Naked Neighbor, I mean the one who helped extricate me from The Mess. And was this a bonding experience for us? It was for me, but not her, apparently, cuz she bitched me out up one side/down the other two days later??? Shut up, WitchyPoo! I was feeling all sentimental toward you.)

BUT ENOUGH ABOUT HER AND HER STINKY BARNYARD BACKYARD AND HER IDIOT DOG WHO FRICKIN’ NEVER STOPS YAPPING AND HER XMAS TREE WHICH IS, YES, STILL IN THE DRIVEWAY. It’s April, savvy?

This is all about me, me, me and my hideous sinus infection and the “course of steroids and antibiotics” that I am now taking to avoid pneumonia. For the second time. I just went through this in February. Yes, it’s not enough that I get a sinus infection that makes me ache and cry and feel swollen and unable to breathe. It moves right down the nasal passages into my lungs and voila! Bronchitis, then bronchial pneumonia.

So better to risk it with the steroids and more antibiotics and stave it off. Hockey God has been sick as hell for a week, too, sinus infection, too, yet still manages to drag to work and ship important computer stuff that saves international banking and international shipping and the free world in general. I love him so. Mainly because he went to the store to get my prescriptions so I wouldn’t have to hear another person say, “You sound terrible!” A kid this afternoon asked his mommy, “What’s wrong with her?” She said, tactfully, “Honey, I think she’s sick and not feeling well!”

Yeah. So why was I not home in bed? Because motherhood, like the world of computing, is relentless. So I had to pick up Wacky Girl and her Wacky Friend, T, so WG could go to art class (thank you, PTA, for the freebie classes) and then we could come home and they could practice their dance for the upcoming talent show. Or as I like to refer to it, “It’s Hard Out Here for a Fifth Grader Whose Lover Has Just Left Her Baby Don’t Abuse Me and She Has to Lipsynch a Song About It and Torture Us for Five Entire Minutes.” With hula hoops.

But enough about them and their little cropped tops and big attitudes.

Time to start the real cure. Hockey God bought me cartons of Mango Tangerine and Meyer Lemon — Double Rainbow Sorbet. I love him love him love him so.