Good and Sick

I woke up yesterday with a honking, gooey hooter of a cold. Eyeballs packed with shrapnel, lungs occupied by phlegm activists, a nose so runny I reached for the cheese biscuits. (Ok, that last one was gross.)

I haven’t been so knock-down flat out sick in a long time.

I spent the morning listening with one ear as the children were corralled by my husband into eating their breakfast, getting dressed for school and stepping out the door. And then I heard nothing blissfully for hours.

The world out there continued on, working, rushing, living, while I dozed and hacked and snorted.

I was so devoid of energy that I thought if the world came to an end, well, shit happens.

Not enough oomph for fear or horror.

On my bed I lay all day, legs sprawled, my arms curled around my aching sides, my splitting head pressed against my pillow. In the afternoon I watched the light fade on a day I spent doing absolutely nothing.

Downstairs, the kitchen counter grew stalagmites of food droppings. The production line of laundry fell silent. My computer never even got turned on. Decisions and errands and even a meeting were postponed. I listened to the world go on, busy, busy, busy, and smiled.

If I didn’t feel so awful I’d really be enjoying this.

photo by Joeywan (flicker)