Having an Icky Day
When you are
sick, nothing is good. Food doesn’t taste right, the friendly comfortable bed
has begun to develop pits and mountains making it near impossible to navigate with
various arms, legs and trunk into a resting position. Your head makes it impossible for light reading
or any other kind of reading as eyes can’t focus, the brain can’t take in
meaning of squiggles dancing across a printed page. A Kindle is worse with the bright screen
hurting sensitive eyes. It just plain stinks.
As for
taking a walk to clear your fog bank dwelling in your head with fresh air.
Well, the best movement is back to bed.
Let me say boring. Disruptive to one’s work week, planned social events
or having a simply lazy day in which to do many things if the mood grabs you
.
I was
knocked down by an icky bug, no need for details. Enough said I spend all of my time sleeping
for two days, making it up for a bit of tea, eating a good breakfast that my
husband prepared. He knows me. I would have ignoring eating. As it was I lost several pounds without a
good exercise routine.
Three days
later, the man walked me around the block before declaring it good enough. Today, I missed out on the fun things going
to Farmers’ Market, getting a massage and just going to the grocery store. I contributed a shopping list. My list for Farmers’ Market included stopping
to say hello to some of my favorite vendors, getting fresh baked bread which
they had our favorite (honey oatmeal wheat bread), looking for good soup (I
provided a jar with a good funnel) and some fresh vegetables.
Ah, but my
bug was a small bug. A small
inconvenience for me, a bigger one for my poor co-workers. My apologies. It does make you sit up and take notice. I am
actually quite healthy. I am going to be
a year older in a month. Sorry, if I
keep harping on it. You should hear the
people who keep asking if I going to retire.
I am just as bad. Frequently I ask several individuals I know if they
will be retiring on the big day of turning sixty-five. Meanwhile, I just keep going.
I am taking
more time for things I want to do. Really,
I am. At least, in my mind, I think I
have a plan. I should probably talk to
the man, my sweet husband so he can be involved, too. It would be a lot more fun than him waiting
on me hand and hand when I am sick. Or
would it? I should probably asked after he is done loading the dishwasher,
heating me up something to eat. No, I will ask him after he finishes the
laundry.
