Fever, chills, sweats, nasty cough — the whole shebang. I don’t know if I got it traveling or whether it was waiting, kindly, for me when I got home, but both L and I have it.
I’m distressed because after my trip East to see my Dad and a three-day weekend, I was finally planning to get organized and functioning after the chaos of the holidays.
I’m grateful, because, oh well, that’ll have to wait. There’s nothing much I can do but let this thing run its course. I’ve been lying here in bed watching the sun move across the back yard and looking at the cute German Shepherd photos on my Kleenex box. There is little to do but let everything fall away and value the little things.
The mug that holds my hot lemon water, not put away yet after the holidays, has goofy, never-before-noticed reindeers on it. I’ve dozed and dozed and dozed. Delightful.
This morning at the grocery store, stocking up on catfood and cough syrup before my day of napping, I ran into a friend who said, “I’m sorry you’re sick. But I find that one of the nicest times as a mom.”
My feelings exactly. I legitimately get to do practically nothing and I’m too sick to feel guilty. Nice.
The cat, who has been walking all over my laptop keyboard has now decided to lie down on my forearms. Guess I better stop now….