The One Where I Am Broken....

First, I am sick. Soooo sick. Nose= pouring. Throat= Thank you good Dr for taking my tonsils out when I was young because owwwwwwww. Voice= scratchy, almost gone. Head= imploding. Sinuses= DIE!!! And I can feel my heart pounding.
Second, I broke my poor baby toe. Or at least I think I did. I stepped funny coming out of my van Friday night and it huuuurrrrttt. I promised Mr X much whining about the toe this weekend. Even more that would be normal for me since I am sick and when I am sick I go into Drama Queen mode. Almost as much as he does. Back to my poor baby toe. I can not step on it. I can not walk. Shoes? Shoes= HAAATTTEEEE. Mr X suggested going to the Dr. I laughed because how silly would it be to go the Dr for a broken toe? He'd just buddy tape it. But mostly because the Dr would likely insist on touching my toe which 1) ow and 2) it's attached to my foot and anything attached to my foot that gets touched? I kick. It's an involuntary reflex. A self-defense move of sorts.
So instead, I've been hobbling around whining in my scratchy almost non-existent voice about my poor baby toe. When I said I wanted blood this weekend, I didn't mean mine. I suppose I should have clarified that a bit.
Mr X was putting together Girl X's bedroom furniture and asked for my help.
"But my tooooeeeee! I can't help, it huuurrrtttsss."

Mr X suggested again going to the Dr only this time for some sedatives. I'm not really sure if the sedatives are for him or for me.

Instead I sat back and watched him put together this gigantic behemoth of an IKEA toy shelf. I watched as he huffed and puffed it into place against the far wall. I looked at Girl X as she frowned and we waited.
I watched as Mr X attempted to put together her new dresser with it's many extra parts that we still don't know where they belong. I am imagining that somewhere out there is another husband attempting to put together this IKEA dresser for his daughter as his wife looks on and he is making up swear words for the missing parts that are here at our house. I watch as Mr X huffs and puffs the dresser into place and cover Girl X's ears as he scratches the paint off the wall and starts talking about rapid antelope.
He attaches the mirror to the wall and Girl X frowns again.
"What?" He asks.

"I want the dresser where the toy shelf is and the toy shelf should go there. That way I can see myself when I wake up and you can see the shelves in the corner with my snow globes. You can't see them now with that thing there and I love you daddy."

I turn around so Mr X can't see me laughing.

He takes the mirror off and rearranges the furniture muttering about kids being smarter than he is. He lands the dresser squarely on his toe and just looks at me.

"Sorry, only one toe whiner per household." I help lift the dresser off his toe as he mutters about moving into his own apartment so he can whine about his toe.

While putting her bed together there was much muttering and confusion. I offered to open the instruction booklet but only received The Look in response.
Girl X wisely let him put the bed where he wanted.

There is still much to be done with setting up her room, most of it I'll do once my toe stops hurting with every little step.

I did suck it up long enough to go to Home Depot with Mr X today and picked out paint for Hurricane's new room. I haven't the heart to tell Mr X that the design for his room would look much better with a chair rail. A chair rail he would have to put up. I would and probably could do it, but it seems that I have the attention span of a gnat.
I still haven't finished recovering the chairs (damn staples).
Originally, I wanted this red with this only a bit lighter brown for the upper half of the room. But Mr X hates red. I think it comes with growing up where everything you ever owned being red. His clothes, the family car, their homes- everything. It's MIL's favorite color. So, we picked blue for the lower half and the lighter brown on top. I just have to figure out what else I want to do in there.
I love to paint. Much like the putting together of furniture, it involves a mess and some swearing.