Bronchitis. It’s a bummer. 

I’ve been feeling unwell off and on for about a month. Each time I feel like I’m starting to feel better, I take another turn and get worse again. Yeah… really rotten. 

I’m still feeling pretty positive about life in general, but man, it would be even better if I could breathe. 

I finally went to see a doc on Tuesday. They did an xray that didn’t show much but with a quick listen to my lungs, he said I had something brewing. Whatever that means. 

I think it done brewed itself and is ready to be served. Eviction papers. 

Those papers came in the form of a steroid shot, antibiotic, and inhaler. It’s only been two days and I still feel like dog shit. Dog shit that can’t breathe properly and periodically hacks up bright yellow gunk, from the depths. So gross. 

I suppose by now anyone who started reading has stopped because, as I said, ain’t nobody got time for bronchitis. Or reading about the nasty details. But this is real life, man, and sometimes that’s all you get. 

I try to go to CB to visit my day every couple weeks but haven’t seen him since Christmas. I guess that wasn’t super long ago but it feels long. Im not going today. I’m also supposed to meet my mom at the office of her surgical oncologist tomorrow. Also not happening. I’m limiting myself to the bare minimum and that means going to the grocery and taking my son to the DMV. 

Good gravy, the Universe help me that that child let his registration go expired for three months. You know when I was his age I was married and had to make rent and do all the adulting in our household. Apartment-hold? That apartment never felt like home. 

Neither did the next two apartments after that or the first actual house I had. I didn’t truly feel at home until the first house I built. The one my kids were born into. Now that was a house! Of course I sacrificed it in the divorce, but that’s a whole other story ain’t nobody got time for. 

Anyway, so when I get home from the grocery store, I’m gonna drag my sn’s ass to the DMV. And I’m gonna say “next year you do this by yourself. In September.” 

His current license plate is duct-taped to his bumper cuz somewhere along the way the screws got stripped. Cars really aren’t in my wheelhouse. Though I’m pretty sure that problem doesn’t even qualify as a car repair. 

Cars weren’t my ex-husbands forte either. My son’s car came from him and he’s the one who actually solved the license plate problem with duct tape. Whatever works I suppose. 

Im just going to keep rolling with a minimum effort for now. When I’m better we’ll takle the bigger problems. As long as he’s being responsible and going to work on time… other things can wait. 

I think that’s all I got in me today. Resting for the last two days hasn’t made me feel any better but this cardio sure does feel great in the moment. 

I can’t breathe and I’ll probably pay for it later, but later as a problem for future Shyla. 

Thanks for reading. 

Peace and love, 

~Miss SugarCookie