At nine o'clock, I was all but passed out on the couch with a fever of 101, hacking my lungs out, and so weak that I could barely pick up Declan to nurse him.
At ten o'clock, I was deliriously chopping potatoes, carrots and onions WHILE nursing the baby (very dangerous, bad idea, never again, I know) because I needed to start the pot roast. Still feverish, still hacking.
At ten fifteen, I was crying because the giant frozen hunk of meat won't fit in the crock pot. So I scooped out some of the potatoes and shoved it in there. It looks like a frosty red iceberg, sticking up sideways and jagged from a sea of veggies.
Dude. Told you I was delirious.
Luckily, Declan is only coughing a little bit, and I know he's not so feverish because his head feels like a cool little bowling ball resting in my inferno of an elbow.
I'm hoping that this sickness disappears as fast as it appeared.