Updates on health, writing, and booties

I called the nurse and she said that most adults don't get Fifth disease even when caring for a child who has it (RB's cheeks turned bright red last night, illustrating why it is called "slapped face disease"). So they don't want me to come in unless I have flu symptoms or a rash. Because if I do have it, there's nothing they can do, anyway. It still bothers me because I have the internet at my fingertips and the late pregnancy insomnia and I read all the terrible things that can happen to a fetus if the mother has Fifth disease. And I have all of the symptoms, except a rash, because my allergies are going crazy right now and my joints are sore from the pregnancy. So how do I know the difference between allergy sick and pregnancy sick and actual disease sick? I thought I'd feel better if I went to the doctor, but I actually feel better because the doctor doesn't want to see me. She's not worried, so I won't worry. Much.

As for the peanut butter, we've eaten half a jar and we have no signs of food poisoning, so we'll just assume it's all clear and I'll go buy some Jif today. Somehow knowing that I am not supposed to eat the peanut butter makes me really want to eat some peanut butter.

And after my moment of blog catharsis yesterday, I wrote three solid pages. Maybe I can do that again today. I tried to work after RB went to bed, but I was just too tired to think that hard. And too busy researching all my potentially devastating ailments.

I declare that the evenings will now be devoted to booties, and I will not feel guilty about it for one moment.