It's a Miracle!

It was as if some sort of magic lightswitch had been flipped in Captain's brain yesterday afternoon. Shortly after I finally calmed down enough to come back out of my office and start unpacking again, coincidentally enough.

Suddenly he was the most helpful husband on the face of the planet.

Which was good because I managed to end up queasy as heck a few hours later and ended up only able to unpack in short five minute bursts between fifteen minute breaks on the couch cuddling the barf bowl and crying. I hate being sick. I especially hate being sick when I don't understand why I'm sick. Three hours of threatening barfyness and then BAM, right as rain again.

So friggin' annoying. AND it was the second day in a row that I mysteriously got queasy for a few hours and then it was like cooties never even happened.

I've been giving my meds the side-eye. The dosage of one of my meds got upped a week or two ago and I'm wondering if that might have something to do with it.

Or it could be all the time I've been spending in the kitchen, where Captain has been slowly removing all traces off gross (finally).

ANYWAY, by bedtime last night, Captain had managed to get all the upper cabinets that I want to use (I'm ignoring the two small ones I can't even reach above the fridge and the mid-sized pair above the stove that are mostly taken up with the stove hood vent thing anyway), finished cleaning the stove hood, applied clear sealant to the place where the two counters meet and aren't even because the house settled and the counter top warped and who knows what sort of gross has fallen into the crack, cleared off the counters so I could put stuff on them, made Bella a box with a small entrance hole to hide under the bed in so she might stop hiding in my closet under my dresses, and moved all billion boxes of books out of his office so I can have a clear floor when I start unpacking and sorting them for the new bookshelves AND he kept stopping by the sofa to pat my back and make sure I was still alive.

I unpacked four out of the remaining six boxes left in the kitchen, cleaned and set aside everything that will eventually go in one of the lower cabinets since they aren't usable yet, finished arranging everything in the living room, moved some stuff in his office to get ready for the great book unpacking, put things on the counters so our kitchen is actually starting to look like a real kitchen and watched several episodes of Holmes Inspection and Storage Wars during my queasy couch breaks.

By tonight I'm hoping to have all but the books and the clothes still in bags where they need to be (even if where they need to be is just in a box on the floor next to the kitchen island because the cabinets are still dirty).

We've got a guest coming Friday and as LJ is my witness, this house will be CLEAN.

Perhaps I need to have my brain meat meds checked again?

It's a Miracle!

It was as if some sort of magic lightswitch had been flipped in Captain's brain yesterday afternoon. Shortly after I finally calmed down enough to come back out of my office and start unpacking again, coincidentally enough.

Suddenly he was the most helpful husband on the face of the planet.

Which was good because I managed to end up queasy as heck a few hours later and ended up only able to unpack in short five minute bursts between fifteen minute breaks on the couch cuddling the barf bowl and crying. I hate being sick. I especially hate being sick when I don't understand why I'm sick. Three hours of threatening barfyness and then BAM, right as rain again.

So friggin' annoying. AND it was the second day in a row that I mysteriously got queasy for a few hours and then it was like cooties never even happened.

I've been giving my meds the side-eye. The dosage of one of my meds got upped a week or two ago and I'm wondering if that might have something to do with it.

Or it could be all the time I've been spending in the kitchen, where Captain has been slowly removing all traces off gross (finally).

ANYWAY, by bedtime last night, Captain had managed to get all the upper cabinets that I want to use (I'm ignoring the two small ones I can't even reach above the fridge and the mid-sized pair above the stove that are mostly taken up with the stove hood vent thing anyway), finished cleaning the stove hood, applied clear sealant to the place where the two counters meet and aren't even because the house settled and the counter top warped and who knows what sort of gross has fallen into the crack, cleared off the counters so I could put stuff on them, made Bella a box with a small entrance hole to hide under the bed in so she might stop hiding in my closet under my dresses, and moved all billion boxes of books out of his office so I can have a clear floor when I start unpacking and sorting them for the new bookshelves AND he kept stopping by the sofa to pat my back and make sure I was still alive.

I unpacked four out of the remaining six boxes left in the kitchen, cleaned and set aside everything that will eventually go in one of the lower cabinets since they aren't usable yet, finished arranging everything in the living room, moved some stuff in his office to get ready for the great book unpacking, put things on the counters so our kitchen is actually starting to look like a real kitchen and watched several episodes of Holmes Inspection and Storage Wars during my queasy couch breaks.

By tonight I'm hoping to have all but the books and the clothes still in bags where they need to be (even if where they need to be is just in a box on the floor next to the kitchen island because the cabinets are still dirty).

We've got a guest coming Friday and as LJ is my witness, this house will be CLEAN.

Perhaps I need to have my brain meat meds checked again?