December 25, 2007
So...right when we needed to go to church for Christmas services, Andrew came downstairs, in wrinkled clothes. It was a battle, as you can see, for him to surrender his shabby T to be pressed. In fact, I discovered a glitch, I was out of Magic Sizing so had to wet a washcloth, throw the clothes in the dryer and patiently wait...all the while thinking church started at 7:15 instead of 7:00.
Reality check...church started at 7:00. We squeaked in. This may become our Christmas letter picture.
All through the service people were coughing, coughing, coughing behind us. Not just your average "ahem" kind of cough. No, this was a phleghmy, loose, yet at time harsh barking HACK. It was all I could do to stop myself from standing up and sctreaming for the Riccoli girl. Dear GOD, I thought, please help this virus spewing pew of peoples from spreading disease and mucous. I felt myself edging further and further and further to the front of our pew. I tried to sing but I was just listening for the chorus of croup behind me and waiting for the splat of a loogie on the back of my neck.
On that note...good night and pleasant dreams.