I'm curled up on the couch, under my beloved brown fuzzy blanket, trying to take a moment to relax, breathe, and stop this horrific sore throat that I developed yesterday. It's only getting worse, and now has a headache buddy too. V is upstairs packing; I did some, and then needed a break. Did I mention that the sink is overflowing with dishes? I was supposed to do them about two hours ago.
Why must vacations come with so much stress?