Remember my last post whining about sickness? Well, it was deserved. I only got worse as the week went on and ended up at the doctor's 3 times in 20 hours. Baby is fine, but I STILL have a nasty virus.
I'm terrible at being sick. I don't like to lounge around. I don't like to stay in bed.
But this virus really left me no choice.
Except Saturday morning, when I left a little better for an hour and INSISTED we go get our tree. Bad, bad idea. I could barely make myself get out of the truck. Then I asked for a ride up the hill in a golf cart, where I promptly took photos while pretty much lying on the ground:
That night, of course Franca gets a fever and Marc discovers over half of our tree lights are bad. So we delayed decorating until the morning, at which point I helpfully took photos from the couch:
This whole week Marc has cooked, cleaned, put up and decorated the tree, Christmas shopped, and did some bathroom work. All while I begrudgingly lounged and took photos of how pathetic we looked:
p.s. y'all are breaking my heart telling me to paint my beloved orange ceiling!!