Adventures in Paradise

Hello? Is this thing on?

We've been MIA the last couple of weeks, and this is what we've been up to:

James came home from work last Thursday, looking pale and unhappy.
"I think I have a fever," he gasped as he collapsed in a heap on the couch. "Can you take my temperature?" he whispered hoarsely, eyes half shut.

"Sure," I said, feeling genuinely concerned for my husband who was obviously dying.

"I hope it's not swine flu," he managed to mumble as I inserted the thermometer into his ear.

"Huh," I said as I read the results. "Well, your temperature is elevated", I assured him.

He cracked one eye open, "What is it? 103?"

"99.3."

He revived a little. "Maybe it was a bad read. Try the other ear."

I obliged. "99.1," I announced.

"Well, I feel terrible," he complained.

And I believed it. He looked miserable. He spent the next several days laying in bed, trying to sleep amidst the chaos that is our happy home, subsisting on frozen otter pops and water. By Friday night, his temperature sky-rocketed to an astounding 99.7. Not exactly on his deathbed, but he was clearly not feeling well. On Monday, he managed to drag himself out of bed and go back to work. He's feeling much better now.

Meanwhile, last Wednesday, I woke up to a sore eyelid. It continued to swell, looking like James beat me. After a couple of days, the pain gave way to unbearable itching, and oozing. And then on Sunday, I woke up, and it was back to normal. Huh.

This past week, we also came to the panic-inducing realization that we won't have enough money to, um, live this coming school year (Having an unpaid internship will do that). But don't worry. Though nothing is set in stone, we're working on a plan that involves selling at least one of our kids. Phew. Crisis averted. ;)

On Tuesday, James woke up with an upper lip that had taken on a definite Julia Roberts-esque quality. I couldn't stop myself from calling him Perry (as in Perry the Platypus of Phineas and Ferb fame). He wasn't amused. By Friday, we deduced that it was some sort of allergic reaction. To what, we're not sure. Our diet hasn't changed since coming here. I suspect allergic contact dermatitis brought on by the cheap "soap" that our apartment is stocked with. According to my research and medical degree, a mild allergic reaction to one of the ingredients in the soap would have taken a couple of weeks to build up, manifesting in any number of ways, including swelling. I managed to procure the last bottle of liquid antihistamine from our local Foodland Pharmacy, and it seems to be helping. I'd post a picture, but James asked me not to. After all, he was kind enough (under threat of bodily harm) not to post a picture of me last week with my pants on backwards.

That's right. While getting ready for bed one day last week, I came to the somewhat startling realization that my pants were on backwards, and had been ALL DAY. Now, lest you think that this blunder was mercifully covered by a long, tentlike maternity top, let me assure you that my mistake was clearly visible to all (but myself). Gone are the days of voluminous, billowing maternity attire. Say hello to more fitted, shorter tops that show off the baby bump, and such wardrobe malfunctions as putting your pants on backwards. I walked out of our apartment dressed in this manner, talked to the dorm office manager, went to the post office, ran some other errands, strolled all over campus, and even ran into some ward members and stopped to say hello. While out, I noticed, to my smug satisfaction, that I was drawing a lot of attention and prolonged looks. I gave myself silent congratulatory praise, certain that those onlookers must be in awe of my fit form, even while 6 months pregnant. I realize now that probably wasn't the case.
James responded to my plight by acknowledging "I thought it looked like your pants were on backwards this morning."
"WHY didn't you say something?!!!" I asked, horrified that my husband had failed me so miserably.
The same husband who I have saved from certain embarrassment time and again when he has left the bedroom with his shirt on both inside-out and backwards (yes, this has happened more than once). The same husband to whom I kindly pointed out, not 6 weeks earlier, that he had buttoned the last button on his shirt to the replacement button sewn on the underside of his shirt flap.
"I didn't think you would do something that crazy," was his response.

Other recent adventures include having a broken toilet that was ever so promptly fixed ONE WHOLE DAY after I reported it. One day is a LONG time to go without a functioning toilet.
We were also without hot water for a day.
And, I spent an entire day trying to get our laundry done in the dorm laundry room. With only two functioning washers and dryers, and about three million people trying to get their laundry done...it was not fun. Especially since I had to get three boys to put their shoes on and herded out the door every 40 minutes ALL DAY to try and jockey for position for the coveted washers and dryers.

In happy news, I've perfected my cockroach killing technique. Since our apartment is carpeted in nearly white, perfectly pristine carpet, one cannot simply smash the offending creatures with a shoe. No, that would leave behind a nasty stain. Instead, I use a sandal to flip the little beasts on their back, then using a pair of tweezers, I pick it up by one leg and flush it down the toilet. Getting them to flip over used to take several tries...and they're fast, especially when chased by a sandal-wielding crazy lady. Now, after lots of practice, I can usually flip them on one try. Awesome.