Drink lots of tea

They will all have their holiday tomorrow. Today they’re thawing enormous boring bird, making pie crusts, running to the store to get forgotten marshmallows and paper cups, buying liter upon liter of Diet(!) Coke and 7Up. Washing their best wineglasses, cleaning under the sofas, having a breakdown because cranberries from the freezer turned up shriveled and black.

I didn’t go to the office today, on sick leave 2nd time in a whole year. Stayed in bed with sun shining in, got up at 8 instead of 6.  Left eye sheds tears, nose runs endlessly, my sneezing startles the neighbors’ lapdog: whahappaaan?whahappaaan? In my forehead floodgates are broken: stress and pain are liquefied and pouring out. Felt rotten yesterday, midway through the day. Couldn’t really concentrate -  stayed late to catch up with redline, “work needs to be done”.

Being sick with cold is a nuisance, but a strangely pleasing nuisance. I walk around undressed, dropping wet tissues in my wake, read  comforting old book for a while (with my right eye), then fall back asleep for an hour. Put on jeans and E.’s sweater, went across the street for Tylenol and Sudafed. Browsed the nets, talked to the fishes. Ate what I wanted (4 slices of pecan bread thickly smeared with  rhubarb jam), and only when I felt slightest call of appetite – at noon. No hurry, no obligation, no makeup. The bed undone all day. Wonderful.

Or it would be, if not for this pulsing pain in my head, and the teary eye, and the weakness.

But I permit myself – let it be. Because tomorrow comes he: to “take care of me”, to make me a chicken soup, to be my loving rock of support. So I’ll have to get up at 6, clean the house, dress, go out, buy a bird and vegetables, and generally be my usual energetic purposeful self.

I’ll better go for another meds portion. And drink lots of tea.

“Пiти тепле, полукати горло“…