Bronchitis In Amish Country

As many of you know, I have been sick. I went to see my doctor on Thursday morning and I found out that it wasn’t allergies, or a cold, or even a sinus infection. I have bronchitis.

When I get sick. I get whiny. When I get really sick… I get so whiny that people want to punch me in the face (just ask my best friend, I’m really surprised she hasn’t killed me yet).

Now I had Friday-Sunday off. I should have been able to relax, heal, sleep, feel better, overdose on NyQuil. But no. I had plans.

I went to Amish Country. Lancaster, PA to be exact. With my mother. There was no relaxing. None. Nada. Zilch.

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This would be a good time to point out that I am actually scared of Amish people. I don’t know why. I just am.

Now every year my parents go to Lancaster for their anniversary. Unfortunately, my Dad’s sub at work quit so he has to work 6 days a week and can’t take any days off. Therefore he could not go on this trip. So I got to go on my parents’ anniversary trip with my mother. It’s times like this where I swear my life could be a terrible sitcom. Just terrible.

Mom’s not so good on the driving – so I drove. Mom loves antiquing – we did a lot of antique shopping. Mom loves soft pretzels – well so do I so there wasn’t a problem there. Mom loves primitive crafts – we stopped at 5 stores (on top of the 6 antique places we went to… in just one day). Mom has bad arthritis – I had to carry every single multiple purchase. Mom loves Celine Dion – we listened to a lot of Celine Dion. Mom loves Amish people – we had to wake up at 7am on a Friday to go on an Amish bus tour with elderly people and this random family from Brooklyn with small child that sucked on his seat and licked the window.

Lets not forget though, that I have bronchitis. Lots of coughing, lots of nose blowing, lots of meds, lots of headaches… etc…

My  mother and I don’t always get along. Because we are REALLY similar (which is surprising, since I’ve tried my whole life not to be like my parents). We can fight. And pick on each other. My mother also forgets that I have very modern tastes. So antiquing… Looking at old stuff that people have for sale, that’s dirty, and you don’t know who owned it… Kind of grosses me out.

And why do you have to be quiet in antique shops? When did that become a rule? Just because it’s mostly old ladies and quiet women does not mean that I HAVE TO BE QUIET! I am loud. So I cough loud. And I clear my throat loud. And if I’m made to be antique shopping by my mother, GOSH DARN IT, I will be loud! So don’t look at me funny, or sigh, or glare, or stare, or what not. You old ladies can stuff it! I will be loud in antique shops! Or you can just throw me out!

And why do Amish people ask for tips so much? Yes I know, everything you bake/cook is delicious, and due to your weird belief system you have weird/odd jobs. But if I buy your dang soft pretzel, don’t stare at your tip jar. I’m not gonna put anything in it. If I bought a soft pretzel from a vendor at a baseball game I wouldn’t tip him. You and your soft pretzel making talents are not special to me. I will eat almost any soft pretzel. How dare you try to make me feel guilty about NOT tipping you.

Why do antique shops always have a plethora of horrifyingly creepy dolls that are ALWAYS missing some sort of body part or all of their clothing? Who is going to buy that? What kind of sick freak goes to each antique shop looking for that type of doll? They should be arrested.

Why do all Amish children wave at you when you drive past? I felt like I was in a freakin parade. Stop it. I don’t like strangers and you and your black monotone colored clothes made me sad and uncomfortable and you make me think a lot about how I would live without an iPhone. I don’t like those thoughts. I love my iPhone.

Why do Amish children never wear shoes? Do they have shoes? Don’t their feet get dirty? What if you stepped on a bee!!!!???

Fun times.

I ate a lot of soft pretzels.

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