what was up... some week a while ago.

It's been one week since you looked at me, cocked your head to the side and said, "It's time for What's Up Weekly." It was four days since then when I said, "Okay, fine.  If I have to.  I guess."

If you know me at all, you know I've had excuses.  (Don't I always?)  Excuses like having to stay packed on ice 24/7 because of the rash on my horrible horrible leg, which spread to my other horrible leg, and then to both my horrible arms.  It was a bit defeating.  But let me back up and give you a rundown of the week.

Sunday: Father's Day! We went to church, then came home for lunch and presents.  I can tell you more about it tomorrow!  

Also - JUNI GOT A BUBBLE BATH.  I REPEAT: JUNI GOT A BUBBLE BATH.

Monday: Our air conditioner died the night before, so I called the service guy.  The same service guy who told us over the winter that we would need to replace our whole system to the tune of $10k even though it was working (mostly) fine.  Why did I call him again?  Because I want believe the best in people, I guess.  So he came out, looked at our air conditioner, told me it was shot, and he could get a $650 fan in that afternoon, as a placeholder for the brand new air conditioner I would need to order.  I told him I'd think about it, but we could live in the heat for a bit and I'd be passing on buying the fan.  He got super duper weird and awkward, and then told me he had sprayed a few things with WD-40 so it might seem like the air conditioner is working, but it actually isn't.  Then he left without making eye contact.  So far, it has seemed like the air conditioner is working well enough to keep our house cool like normal.  And that's really all I need it to seem like.  (I realize I'm making wild assumptions here, but I'm assuming he works on commission.  If and when the WD-40 wears out, we will be calling someone else.)

Tuesday: A friend came over and watched the kids so Todd and I could have a date night!  It had been a long time since we'd gone out - we had been able to go out for Valentine's Day, but I'm pretty sure that the time before that was before Christmas.  Yikes.  So we went to a local steak place, where we ate All the Food (um, my steak was 20 ounces.  I really mean All The Food).  Then we hit up Natural Grocers because they were running a 25% off EVERYTHANG sale, and nothing says Sexy Date Night like buying a bunch of pickles and raw chickens for pennies on the dollar.  

Unfortunately, my weird skin rash thing was aggravated by the jeans I was wearing.  My legs were like, "FABRIC? DENIM FABRIC? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?" And I was like, "Legs, they're called pants, and they're expected in public." And Legs were like, "OPPRESSION." And then they revolted and started itching so badly I cried in the van on the way home.

Wednesday: On my way up to the Amish, I called a friend who's a nurse and was like, "You have to help me.  I have this rash..." And then I told her the whole sad story, and promised to text her juicy shots of my gnarly legs when I got home.  (I repeat, "I WOULD TEXT HER WHEN I GOT HOME."  NO, I do not text and drive, ever, and neither should you!  It's illegal and dangerous and idiotic.  You are not good at it even though you think you are, and you will end up killing someone, and you are not so necessary to everyone's immediate iExistence that it's worth that kind of risk.  So knock it off.  Thus saith the Mom.)  She asked the doctor she works for, and I got an unofficial diagnosis: Poison Ivy.

Which is relieving in some ways - now I know what I'm dealing with (and why it keeps spreading) (and that it's not contagious) (and that it's not something worse) - but also concerning in other ways.  I could not for the life of me figure out where I would get poison ivy, since I was only in my driveway.  However, since then, I have examined my yard and found COPIOUS amounts of it.  The real question is how I didn't catch it sooner.  So now I'm depressed and overwhelmed and scared to go outside or let the kids play outside.

Thursday I took Penelope and Finneas to pick out goldfish.  Penelope needed to try again after we'd killed three fish in a row a couple months ago, and Finneas was getting Callista a fish as a birthday present.  I had high hopes - I had disinfected every last bit of the tank and its contents, I bought a new filter... things were going to be different this time.  They had to be different this time.  But I think you can see where this is going.

Unfortunately, things did not go as planned.  I will come clean about our most recent fish massacre later this week.  (The guilt.  Oh, the guilt.)

And other than that, basically all I was capable of last week was rotating between an ice-packed existence on the couch, and taking tub baths in cold water.  And then back to the couch once my ice packs had refrozen.  I'm sure you're jealous, imagining me sweating away in an 85-degree house and nursing a raging case of poison ivy.  It's a luxe life I do lead.