Yucky Ducky

So it's not been the greatest week. This is the busiest time of year at work, and coincidentally also the burn-out period. Not a good combination. I feel in over my head, and for every task I get done, there are ten more I need to do, 7 of which I don't know how to do. This all came to head this morning, when my stress paired with my emotions got the better of me. I really wanted to walk out the door and not look back, but instead I just cried in my office. Good times.

It didn't help I've felt miserable the past few days. I feel like poop, and all I want to do is drown myself in NyQuil- but I can't. The best remedy I could come up with to sleep last night was a BreatheRight strip. Which was heavenly. But apparently I was subconsciously quite worried about even its safety, because I dreamed that I woke up this morning and read the package only to find it was littered with warning about their use during pregnancy. Like, huge, block Surgeon General's warnings. It was even printed right there on the back of the strip: NOT FOR USE DURING PREGNANCY.  I woke up this morning in my cloudy, congested, non-medicated fog convinced I had just seriously harmed lil boo boo and searched the packaging religiously to prove my discretion. Luckily, I think I'm in the clear. 

Maybe I have some pent-up guilt lingering from the club sandwich I had last weekend. That's right. I ate deli meat. That was not cooked above 100 degrees. And I haven't died yet. And, since that time, lil boo boo has learned to simultaneously punch me on one end of my belly while kicking me on the other end. So I'm thinking he's strong and healthy, too. And it was a damn good sandwich. 

PS- If you plan to write some comment about how BreatheRight strips really are bad for me- I don't want to hear it. So don't. I'm going to wear one again tonight, thanks. I also don't want to hear that I'm going to hell for eating turkey.