* I won the DietBet!!! Even though I somehow gained an entire pound between waking up and stepping on the scale and having the time to take the weigh-out photos (despite only having consumed a Larabar and a sip of Diet Pepsi). And the photos were blurry because Hotter is touchscreen-impaired. And I didn't have an index card and had to write the "secret word" for the weigh-out on a piece of paper. GO, ME!
* To celebrate, I treated Middle Child and myself to pinkeye. GOD DAMN IT, NOW WE HAVE TO BURN THE HOUSE DOWN AND MOVE!
* The good news, I guess, is that I took Middly (who was sent home from school crusty-faced) (Hotter said he looked fine this morning but as I told the doctor Hotter is legally blind so who knows) to Urgent Care, which sees children AND adults, and talked them into prescribing me eyedrops without booking a second appointment and paying another co-pay. It says sad things about my life that scoring treatment for fucking eye-clap without hemmorhaging any additional cash feels like winning, but IT TOTALLY DOES.
* Also, I don't look bad yet, I can just sort of FEEL it and there's a CHANCE it's psychosomatic (because PINKEYE, BUTTCHILLS, OMG) so I don't technically HAVE to miss work. Or so I'm telling myself. I'll do two doses of drops before I go in and practice extra-good hand hygiene. Am I going to The Hot Place for this? I just really can't afford to miss any work.
* So yeah, this is TOTALLY what winning feels like. Take THAT, March!