Postcards from the edge (of my deathbed)

I didn’t go on the backpacking trip I was supposed to lead for girl’s camp this week. You know, the one I have been planning for months.

The night prior to our departure, I was (and continue to be) struck by the plague. I don’t have the energy to get into it all right now but after two nights with no sleep, I spent this morning at the doctor. There were a lot of tests and talk of infections. Or poisoning. Or salmonella.

If you don’t hear from me for a while, blame the pumpkin. I don’t know why. It just seems appropriate. As my last request, I plead with you not to let Jamie put one on my tombstone.

Because he’s just kind of obsessed like that….

P.S. If you are going to have your mother-in-law take your children to their swim lessons while you are supposed to be away on a trip that never happens, make sure you do not fly off the handle at the pool personnel when they claim your children are not registered, only to later find out you enrolled them at a different pool.

P.P.S. Run-on sentences are only permitted in a drug-induced state.

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