Quota...reached

My quota for non-fun has been reached.  It was already about full as I laid in the dentist chair for 4 1/2 hours with a blue rubber balloon stretching my lips to a new shade of white as the blood drained to my head.  I figure that could make any heart beating person come close to reaching their quota.    But then, as life has a sense of humor, my quota flowed over with  FIVE days in a house with two children with fevers and enough mucus to slime the worst enemy, a sidewalk full of snow that doesn't seem to mind needing shoveling while I tend to the sick and a husband in China.  Yep....I had reached my quota and action had to be taken....

First, open a bottle of Quota...second, build a very warm fire...third,  skip shoveling the sidewalk...fourth, call a babysitter for Saturday night...next, check to see who the band playing at the Jazz Hall is on Saturday night..and finally inform husband that jet lagged or not, we are breaking free from the Hoff hospital and dancing will be the required prescription.  (Odd ...when I told the kids that a babysitter would be tending to their sickness tomorrow night, they seemed to do a dance of their own...I guess kids have had their "quota" of moms too or maybe they want their mother to come back to the "sane-side")

Here's to acknowledging when one has reached their quota and takes action other than shoveling snow...