I’m coming up for air.
After being locked up in some crazy kind of nasty place for the past nine or ten days, it’s such a relief to be able to take a deep breath again. The nasty place has a name. Chest Cold. Add fever, cough, stuffed up nose and you have a doozy. I was down for the count. Useless. Truly pathetic.
This lengthy incarceration was a surprise to me. First of all, I am not usually prone to sickness of any kind. And second of all, I did not expect the days and days of inability to put one foot in front of the other in order to do what is commonly known as walking. Thankfully, I was home alone for most of this humiliation. Dear husband was out of town working and Graphic Designer Daughter was in Las Vegas celebrating her birthday. My mother reminded me that I always did like to be left alone when I was under the weather, and I was grateful to be able to moan on the sofa with only the Food Network to interrupt me.
I did venture out on a couple of occasions. Our little coffee shop closed last week and I made a couple of efforts to get in there to finish off the paperwork and pack up what I could. I gave new meaning to the phrase “working feverishly” and they kicked me out. Then I had one brief period of feeling not too bad, so I was able to help Mom with a few errands. After which I was back on the sofa.
Seriously, it was not a fun week. Aside from feeling miserable, I was incredibly bored. Completely unproductive. And not even remotely creative.
But I’m back!
Shaking off the last of the cough and ready to stay topside, as it were.
Wow, it’s great to breathe again.