Plans do change, don't they? This was supposed to be a very busy day. Babysitting all afternoon, then headed up to have dinner with friends in the mountains overlooking Boulder. I was just hoping I'd have recovered my giddyup by the time it all kicked off.
Instead, I sent a message to my daughter mid-morning, warning her that her dad has a huge cold, and although he was still going to one appointment at 11, she had to make the call whether the babies could be in the same house as him, while he was masked. He did an at-home test and was clearly negative for the Rona, but with other viruses rampaging now (she was particularly concerned about RSV), we came to the conclusion that babysitting was off today. Might be off tomorrow too. We shall soon learn.
He came back from his appointment congested and weary, taking the very last set of DayQuil gelcaps and asking for a blanket to be handed to him. Between those startling details (IYKYK) and his persistent hacking cough, I asked him to text our friends above Boulder for permission to back out of that commitment too. So instead we had hot toddys (I tried one for the first time in years) and watched the first Enola Holmes movie so that we can watch the second sometime soon. Pity. I had put a little extra effort into hair and makeup and everything, but there I was, sitting in my messy bedroom, watching a movie on Netflix, from underneath two cats and a giant dog.
I wonder whether tomorrow will be equally hopping.
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