A plague has descended upon the House of Lime like a blanket of pathogens weighing us down and incubating disease. Isaac missed two days of school last week and a much longed for birthday party over the weekend. He is missing school again today. Calypso moaned last night before bed about a throbbing headache, queasy stomach and displayed a fever. Diana missed last Wednesday, tried Thursday and succumbed again Friday. She is making an attempt at school today not because she feels significantly better but because she is supposed to perform in a concert tonight and tomorrow night and her band director is such an asshole that unless he himself sees her looking like something that cat dragged in he will make her life a living hell for the rest of the year. I hope she infects the bastard.
There seemed to be some small recovery over the weekend when I found Isaac and Diana both rolling their eyes in every direction and gleefully proclaiming the joy of being able to move their eyes without pain. The rally was short lived. I'll be schlepping them all to the doctor as soon as the office opens and I can beg an appointment for them. I concede defeat, home doctorin' ain't working.
Mr. Lime sounds like he belongs in a TB colony. I was feeling ok until yesterday. Then I got such chills I actually wore pajamas to bed. I hate sleeping in clothes. This morning I've got a sore throat, full ears and a nagging headache.
The house has that disgustingly stale, semi-putrefied smell to it. The high is only supposed to be in the 20s today but I am opening every window to air this place out. It's vile in here.