Hypochondria

So, those of you who know me and love me. Or hate me, also know that I am a level 10 hypocondriate (10 being highest on a scale of 1-10). And no one anywhere can convince me otherwise, because despite all my many hours of shrinkage, and despite all my the sage advise on how to get rid of colds and flus, I am the worst patient. Ever. Which brings me to Bella. She’s been staying at her dad’s house (one of the few times he comes in handy), because, well, she just IS. And now, because it’s that time of year, she’s gotten yet ANOTHER cold. And so, of course, SHE WANTS TO COME HOME. (That coupled with the fact that he’s going out of town tomorrow, spells Trouble with a capital T).

This cold, however, did not stop her from partying all weekend long. Despite my attempts to get her to stay home and rest. So NOW she is really hacking and sneezing away and, on top of that, looks like shit warmed over, so yes, she is really and truly sick because of course Thursday, I have my first really big convention acting as a newly minted CEO. The stakes are high. Therefore, I have condemned Bell to keep to only two areas of our huge 700 square foot apartment–her room, and the bathroom. (Under threat of losing Facebook). To which she agreed. But someone else in our home thought the better of this, and decided, in her way to help with dirty tissue clean up. Anyone want a black poodle?

Another Chloe Story: Sometimes you just step in shit

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