"It's hot in here." My husband says every single night, as soon as he enters the bedroom. The thermostat is set for 75 degrees, electric bill be damned, and he's hot. I won't let him have a fan blowing directly on him, because it will blow on me as well, and my sinuses are dried out enough as it is. Mr. Hot wears a CPAP machine with a built in humidifier, so he's not going to have bloody noses and headaches when he wakes up, but I will. When Zane gets in the bed with us at night, he also gets the dried out sinuses. I've tried doing the small things, like keeping the closet doors shut, but the big things that might help, like resealing the windows or flushing out the system, is up to him. So he gets to lay there and be hot, at least until he falls asleep.
Yes, in case you missed that, Zane continues to sleep in our bed, no matter where he starts out. I finally asked him why he didn't like to sleep in his own bed. I pointed out that he has a nice room with lots of toys and plenty of stuffed animals to cuddle with. I reminded him that his father had painted the room just for him, and had made him several big posters of Batman and Superman for him to hang on the walls. Was his bed too soft? No. Was it too warm/cold? No. Then why?
"Because I hear voices when I am in there." My skin broke out in goosebumps. Darn you, Stephen King!
"Okay." I just changed the subject. I'll look into it later when I'm not so creeped out. Also, when I have a 5lb bag of salt, seven bulbs of garlic, and every cross in the house.
I found this app for my Kindle, so of course I had to play with it. It was free, since the Amazon App store offers a free app each day for download. This is my first attempt at flowers, and I had a bit of trouble because my fingers are a little bigger than I wanted them to be, but they at least look like flowers. All of you, of course, will be seeing some of my better attempts to get arty. Gotta work that right brain!
My pinkeye seems to have cleared up. I don't have the bloodshot eyes that might or might not be misinterpreted as a sign of something else, and I am pleased to say that I have not infected anybody else. I have done my part to protect the public, and while I don't expect a reward, I will just be happy if Patient Zero at least went to a doctor. Down here it takes the hand of God coming down from on high to get people to go to the doctor. For anything. Until it's an emergency. I don't know what happens if a person doesn't do anything about their pinkeye, but I imagine that it involves losing vision at some point. So go to the doctor, person who infected me with pinkeye--where ever you are!
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