We finally got a winter here in Baja Canada. After the extended dance mix version of October that lasted well past Christmas, it is finally snowing here in Our Little Town. Not enough to get off from school, much to Lauren’s dismay, but enough to make it look like a real January.
And of course I’m sick again.
I managed to hold off getting sick on vacation, but almost immediately upon returning my body took a quick look around, recognized its surroundings and the largely vacant slot on the calendar that I had set aside for catching up on all the things I’d blown off in the whirlwind of last semester, and said, “MINE!” And by “MINE!” it meant “FLU!”
There followed a week of aches, pains, internal thermostat deregulation, and a cough strong enough to startle the cat out of its slumbers. Plus I spent several days sounding like the Amityville Horror and had to fight the urge to walk up to complete strangers and say, “Get! … OUT!”
This is harder than it sounds.
But for the last couple of days I had been feeling better. I’ve been working on my classes for next semester, knocking items left and right off my To-Do list, and even reading things that I don’t need to remember for any constructive purpose, just because I could focus again.
And then today? “MINE!”
I regard this as greedy on the part of my body, especially since the snowblower also chose today to begin emitting a high-pitched grinding sound that even I could recognize as unhealthy. Fortunately the snow is powdery and can be shoved aside with one hand on the shovel. But still.
So I am back to my tea, my books and my bed. I am stuffed to the gills with drugs and growing moldy from the humidifier next to my bed.