This is ridiculous. I feel worse now than I did this morning, worse than I did yesterday. And why am I posting so much?
Because I am lonely. It finally kicked in. I miss my husband, yes, I do. But honestly, I don't want anyone here because no one needs this cold. I missed going to Kathleen's appointment to meet the surgeon who will remove her lymph node tomorrow. I will miss the surgery. She cannot be around anyone who is sick right now.
I know it's not my fault that I have a cold but still, it seems so ridiculous. Me? Sick? This just does not happen.
I did take a walk this morning. I went past the post office and right up Main Street, not fast, but not shuffling, either, and it was so nice to be out in the good fresh air. So nice to wave hello to Miss Liola. Yell, "I have a cold! Don't get near me!" and have her say, "Ah, honey, take care of yourself!"
I came home and was going to plant some crazy-beautiful cool plants that Mr. Moon got me in the woods last week but when I started digging in the bed where I want to put them, red ants came up the shovel and covered my feet and I said, screw this, kicked off my shoes, put the shovel against the wall and came inside.
And I haven't been good for shit since then. I called Hank because he had this virus last week and he said it's either a really bad cold or a tiny flu. Either way, it just sucks. I don't feel SO bad that there isn't part of me that feels like I'm faking it while at the same time, I don't feel good enough to do any damn thing so I feel like I'm just being a wussy goldbrick.
I finished reading a book. I've been laying on the couch watching The Rachel Zoe project and why anyone in the world would watch this show is beyond me and yet...here I am. OH NO! DEMI'S DRESS FOR THE OSCARS ISN'T READY! THE WORLD WILL COME TO AN END! RACHEL DOESN'T WANT TO HAVE A BABY BECAUSE SHE'LL GET FAT!
Here's my advice to Rachel Zoe: Don't have a baby. Do the world a favor.
Here's my advice to her husband: Consider your options. You may be gay. It might be fun to find out.
Well, poor Rachel. Poor Whatever Her Husband's Name Is. These do not look like happy people. Not. At. All. I wish them all the best. They live in a different world than I do and for that, I am grateful.
My tea is cold again. I actually made my bed this morning which means it will be all the more comfortable when I get in it. It's almost time to go shut the chickens up so they'll be warm and cozy and safe from predators. I will probably feel better tomorrow.
And one day, and maybe not in the too-distant future, I know for a fact that I will look back on these few days I've spent at home and alone with a not so bad illness and I will remember this time fondly. And every mother in the world knows what I'm talking about. Sure, I'm a little sick but I don't have to take anyone to school or lessons, I don't have to cook supper for anyone or pack lunches, I don't have to do laundry or take care of other sick people while I myself am sick. It's sort of like a dream in some ways. And not a bad one, either. I have my annoying dogs, I have my internet, my trees to look at and books to read and food to eat and juice to drink and a very comfortable bed to get into tonight.
And Rachel Zoe. She seems to go on forever. I can look at her. I am glad she cannot look at me. She would have something to say about my outfit and it would not be nice.
But she'd look cute when she said it with that little crinkled up nose of hers.
All right. I'm off to make that trek to the chicken house. And I guess I better find something to feed the cats.
All is well. Except me. And I'm okay.