Am I Dreaming? Am I Dead?

I started this post March 1st.

I wrote this:

"The month of the hubby's birthday and when spring kicks winter to the curb (just let me have my dream there, okay?). Although how much of a dream is it really when I have photographic proof from Mother Nature.

Don't dare say Nature is a moron either. She knows sh*t. She is never wrong! All powerful Nature!

Stupid flowers."

I was going to then show you a photo of my daffodils and crocuses. To be shot in the sunshine during one of the 70 degree days. They were all green shoots, four or more inches above ground, MARCH 1ST.

Which they still are, technically on this March 14th. Only taller.

Daffodils around the mailbox.

Daffodils in the front of the house.

And for the finale, crocuses.

I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.

I took Mav for a walk yesterday in Fitflops and a Rams tee shirt. For the record, also pants. Just wanted to make sure that was clear. Anyway, one person had full blown blooming yellow daffodils right down the street. Three streets over, a yard full of purple flowering crocuses.

Today, I woke up to heavy, wet snow.

I wondered if I was dreaming

Or dead.

Heaven or hell looks a lot like my life had looked.

Only with majorly messed up weather.

What a March. I mean, really. I'm not complaining. Just amazed by it all. I have nothing to complain about. All the tragedies weather-wise are across the globe. So none of this is complaining. Just statement of facts. I have nothing to complain about. No earthquake here. No wave of water taking away everything. I just feel like Artie. I want to stay in my heated bed with the clicker.

Artemis the Hunter, hunting down good decisions.

The hubby and I haven't had any dating. We're really rocking this 2011.

Sigh.

Thank God for Red Dead Redemption and (yawn) European soccer. Saving my butt. Keeping the husband occupied and providing him with much needed stress relief since I'm still recuperating from my stupid biopsy. Yesterday was the first day I went out. I went to the grocery store. It was less than thrilling. Easter candy was out, so it was worth it, but still.

Why does my body hate me? It's always all "I kill you!" even though I give it all the Dilly Bars it wants and let it sleep in until noon on a consistent basis.

It wants to watch a Pawn Stars marathon and eat 12 sugar free popsicles? Done!

It wants to do as little laundry as is humanely possible and take 4 baths a day? Done!

It wants to make shrimp dip, then eat all the shrimp dip, then throw up all the shrimp dip and watch my entire body turn purple, all while watching a Jennifer Aniston and Gerard Butler movie that is more painful to live through than all the vomiting and color changing. DONE AND DONE!

You know how sometimes you have something medical done and then you're all, "That was no big deal!" and "That incision is way smaller than I thought it would be!" and "Wow, that is healing so much faster than I thought it would!"...

Yes? So, none of that is happening here.

My gold medal sentiment is "It hurts me when I sit still!" with "WOW! It's like someone put a cigar out on me! I wish I was into that sort of thing, that would make this way more tolerable!" coming in a close second.

Rounding out in third place, "There was a gaping wound in my body yesterday, perhaps today it will be a smaller, less gaping wound!"

Checks on it...

"Son of a *****!"

What the hell kind of date could I possibly plan at this point? One where the husband is downstairs pretending he is scruffy western guy for hours on end and I'm upstairs taking a 14 hour long nap. Mix in some 6 hour agony from a migraine that refuses to acknowledge a variety of pain medicine, and you have what I guess is our next date. Thursday he's taking off of work and taking me to the medical professionals. Where he'll make sure I "don't lie to the doctor."

I DON'T LIE.

I OMIT.

THERE IS A DIFFERENCE.

Thursday cannot come and go too quickly for me.