No Brain on the Breather

Eraser Eater woke me up asking me for his "breather." His breather is his inhaler. I heard the urgency in his voice so I got up immediately but stood there saying, "breather? Uh..." with my hand on my head. I was a bit out of it. I think he tried to describe it to me but I could not swim to the surface of awakedom enough to think of where the heck a breather could be. I think I walked in a circle and said breather a few times. He was apparently annoyed with me. "A breather, Mom! I can't breathe! I need it! Where is my breather?"

Finally I remembered what a breather was and knew exactly where I could find one. Duh.

Since I have been in my own bed the past two nights it is hard for me to get out of it. I was up late a lot on the trip and I consumed too many alcoholic beverages (over the course of days, I did not get drunk). Alcohol does that to me. When I drink it too late in the evening I sleep well at first and then about four hours later I am up---popping from the bed like a kernel of popcorn from a hot pan. I hate that. I think the first night I was there I slept about four hours at the most. Not good for the voice either. My friends also made me sing above and beyond what I am used to---hours and hours of worship songs---so I am sure I sounded a bit "sultry" when I actually had to "perform."

So, we are all sick over here---I am not sure if I am or not---I usually don't get sick. The oldest and the youngest have a sore throat. I think Dear Sir does too. Eraser Eater is so bad off, as you know, he needs his breather. That is bad. They are all laying around in underwear under blankets watching TV.

I have no idea what to do with myself anymore.

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