On Friday, Mandy told me she was so sick she couldn't move. She said she'd been in bed since Monday. You think that would have stopped me, but that same night, I waltzed about the sidewalks of Park City, coat-less, snow piled six-feet high on either side of me. Sunday, I poor-deared Mern's soar throat and achy bones as I told Brother R. that I was "Great, thank you. Just trying not to catch this dreaded flu everyone's got." Monday was mind-over-my sniffles. And Tuesday, Tuesday my body waved a white flag, in full surrender to The Terrible Flu.A mountain of Kleenex sits at the foot of m bed, like drafts of love letters pulled from a typewriter, crumpled and tossed on the floor. Others mingle together, bad fowl shots, near the waste basket a few feet from my bed. The nightstand is covered with multiple bottles of cough medicine, all advertising to alleviate.
I've caught up on all your blogs. Twice. I've read more about Hillary's campaign than I ever wanted, watched 101 Dalmations two and half times and started three books (and finished two). I've gone trough several bottles of anti-bacterial gel and eaten all the raspberry popsicles. Now I'm onto the tropical ones. I eat the strawberry last. They're my favorite. I hope by the time I unwrap the first of the strawberry-flavored frozen treats I can actually taste them.
3 comments:
You're sick?! How did this escape my notice? How did we manage to email back and forth without this update?!
Of course, the real incredulity here is not necessarily that lack of communication but the fact that you watched 101 Dalmations not once, but twice. Please get better. Soon.
I'm still struggling to get over my bout of flu. It's. the. worst. I feel for you, dear.
Oh, M! This is by far the saddest story of the week. You poor, poor unfortunate soul! Know that I'm thinking about you.
Post a Comment