Tomorrow better be better

The last 24 hours have really sucked.

Poor little Kayley got hand, foot & mouth disease, which she passed on to her poor mom and her poor Auntie Amy.

I try not to be a total baby when I'm sick, but last night I was beyond miserable. My fever was through the roof, I had aches and chills and sweats, and my body hurt so much I started crying. Hurt as in it-just-hurts-to-lay-there hurt. Today I said to my sister, "I do not understand how you care for a child when you are that sick." "You don't have a choice," she replied. This has made me reconsider my plans for future motherhood.

So I spent the night at my parents' house, letting them worry about me and bring me Tylenol and cold wash clothes. In the morning my fever was down to 102.6, but I still felt miserable and was alternatively sweating through my sheets and shivering.

By 11am I was just over 100 - woo hoo! By 1pm I was almost back to normal. Things were starting to look up. My new Shape magazine came in the mail, so my mom brought it up for me to read before she went out to do some errands.

I was sitting in my bed reading the magazine when a guy opened my door, said, "Oh...hello....", and shut the door again.

At first I wasn't sure this had actually happened. I had had a really high fever - was I hallucinating? Then I thought maybe it was a repairman that my mom had forgot to mention was coming by. This didn't really make sense either. Was someone still in the house? I went downstairs, saw broken glass by the door, grabbed the phone and went back upstairs to call 9-1-1.

At this point I must commend the Wakefield Police Department for their fast, efficient service. They arrived in less than 2 minutes, searched the house, and sent people off patrolling the neighborhood. The guy had punched in the glass on the door, reached through and turned the knob. There were no cars in the driveway, so he obviously thought the house was empty. Apparently I scared him more than he scared me.

Once I calmed down I actually felt kind of sorry for the poor s.o.b. For those of you who have never been in the LeClair household, it's somewhat of a disaster. (For a quick reference, read here.) When I walked into my parents' room with the officer, he looked at me and asked, "Can you tell if anything's been disturbed?" I just looked at him, trying not to laugh, and said, "No, it's always like this." Tonight over dinner even my mother, public enemy #1 on the pack rat list, was able to laugh as we joked that there might be valuables in this house, but you'd never find them!

I feel very lucky nothing happened, and I'm hoping tomorrow will be a much less eventful day. Now where did the Tylenol go?