So, you've got a pretty good bead on my mother at this point, yes? You won't be surprised to read that she called me last week to say that she was literally unable to sleep at night because the child hadn't gotten his flu shot yet, right? See, we missed the clinic four weeks ago because, to tell the truth, we just couldn't get our shit together to get over there. Then I did a little reading about flu shots and all the crap they put in them and had a little heart attack and decided to let it simmer (i.e. do nothing).
But then my mother called and although I run a department and a family, I turn to pudding when she bosses me around and so I made the appointment for the fucking shot. Guess how long it took after the injection for my son (off of whom I had finally chipped the last of the dried snot just two days before) to be covered once again in the familiar green goo. Go on, guess.
So, two things:
1. Never again, flu shot, you bitch. Never again.
2. I am renaming this blog "Mucus," because really.
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