So, to reiterate…Clarinex=bad. For me, anyhow. I’ll be taking it the next time I want to simulate a hangover, replete with the dry-heaves and spinning rooms. Which is to say, never. I am feeling better now. And I managed to muddle through an evening alone with the little man, as J had gone to last night’s protest. Which I would have joined. If I’d felt up to it. I considered taking the monkey to the Children’s Museum instead. But if I didn’t have the stamina to stand or march at a protest, chasing an active three year-old around the MCM was out of the question. The more feasible alternative, a trip to the neighborhood coffee shop for beverages and a snack. As he’s getting older the monkey is having less trouble in public places. More sitting still, less wreaking of the havoc. And he picks up after himself when we’re out and about. Much more so than he does at home. Go figure. So after a blissfully uneventful visit we headed home for more lounging, and some music listening. Mainly Ida’s children’s album, “You Are My Flower“. He particularly enjoys their rendition of “Jingle Bells”, and would prefer that I left that song on repeat until every last shred of my sanity has slipped away, down the drain. Instead I allowed the CD to play on, incurring his wrath for a bit. Until he fell asleep, curled up against me in the comfy chair.
