I’m sick. I’m profoundly ill. I’m uncomfortable. I am not good company.
The one silver lining is that M’s parents are visiting and they took B to the house next door and now my own house is silent in a way it rarely gets to be. Nobody is asking for anything, nobody is dropping something particularly heavy, nobody is tormenting somebody else. The dogs and I are content to occupy our own spaces and leave each other alone except when we’re in the mood for a cuddle. If only my head weren’t caving in, I’d be in such a good mood.
But my head is caving in and I”m in a miserable mood, which is unfair because I don’t get sick very often. I should be grateful for this. I should be happy that I am such a healthy person that a mere cold drives me to the limit of what I can handle. But, no. Instead I choose moaning and sniffing and feeling sorry for myself because we can’t afford to hire someone whose sole job it is to make me a fresh cup of tea every 20 minutes. I mean, really. And the fire is out.
This bout of sickness is nowhere near as bad as my previous bout of sickness, which occurred two weekends ago and involved me sleeping in the bathtub. Have you tried this? I found the perfect solution to those nights when you know you need to sleep so you can get healthy but every time your body starts to doze off you have to run to the toilet because the nausea is so bad. Sleep in the tub! Filled with warm water, of course. I know there are warnings about drowning and so on, but I’m pretty sure my body is smart enough to wake up if my nose slips below the surface. And I have an adult sized body – have you tried to submerge one of those in a bathtub? Pretty darn difficult.
So I really shouldn’t complain about a measly head cold. At least I can sleep in a bed, provided I get my head to just the right angle.
But – is this normal? The crackling sound in my ears? The shifting waves of translucence in front of my eyes? The brick-heavy skin at my temples?
I did manage to get a few things done today. I signed a kid up for hockey camp. I wrote two paragraphs of an article that was due last Sunday. I renewed our membership to a local art gallery so I can sign up another kid for art camp. There’s pork chops simmering away in the crock pot that I’ve been told smell delightful.
But mostly this day is a writeoff. Mostly this day is dedicated to counting the bones that ache.
I hope you all don’t catch my cold.