Friday, May 15, 2009
Monday, May 4, 2009
It’s 2:45 in the morning and I can’t sleep, my body is very unwashed, and downstairs are piles of laundry with my name on them. But I don’t care about any of this BECAUSE I’M SICK! And what else is there for a disease-ridden insomniac to do but blog about her condition?
Here are a few observations and lessons learned during my time of illness:
1)You know how some oranges aren’t very good? They have that weird taste and texture because they’re over-ripe or what-not? Yeah, I can’t taste that, and I’m ever so grateful for it because my body is craving the Vitamin C they (oranges) offer. From the texture I can tell that the orange I’m eating probably isn’t the best tasting, and under normal circumstances I’d spit it out and toss the rest away. But tonight, due to my blessed congestion, all I can tell is that this orange is juicy and vaguely sweet. Of course, if I wasn’t this congested I wouldn’t have these orange cravings in the first place.
2)Seltzer water is strangely delicious when you’re terribly thirsty and/or horribly sick—both of which I have been this weekend. The bubbles feel nice in my slightly cramping stomach, and the coolness of it is refreshing. I like seltzer water.
3)The recent discovery that I like seltzer water may be due in large part to my previously mentioned congestion. In fact, it may be the exclusive reason for my enjoyment of it.
4)Small things mean a great deal when you’re sick. Like the feeling of just brushed teeth, or a boss who says “Take all the time you need to get better because we don’t want your disgusting germs.” Or the luxury of a soft, fuzzy towel after a piping hot shower. Or the relief when the pain killers finally kick in.
5)I LOVE the Vlogbrothers (do a Google search cause I’m too sick to provide a link, then watch as many of their videos on YouTube as you possibly can—they are fantastic). This observation has nothing to do with my sickness, other than that they will be entertaining me with their delightful nerdiness whilst I recover.
6)”Whilst” is a great word.
5)Making lists about your sickness is highly therapeutic, as are hot cups of mint tea.
Well, I’ll leave off for now. There will be plenty of time for more blogging in between the bursts of restless sleep I will no doubt enjoy tomorrow.
Friday, May 1, 2009
After cutting down the grass, I started cleaning up the yard and weeding the flower beds. While tugging away at a particularly nasty weed, one of the neighbor boys came by on his bike to talk to me. This kid is a unique soul. Last summer he spent a lot of time roaming the neighborhood sans shirt and a knit ski hat pulled over his face—not a ski mask, an actual hat. I think he was pretending to be Batman, or Spiderman, or something-man, but I don’t know how successful a superhero you can be without eyeholes in your mask.
Last night when I got home from work, he was riding his bike in our cul-de-sac. He saw my car heading down the street and changed course straight for me. I slowed down and watched him carefully, but he seemed determined to play a quick round of chicken. Finally, he swerved off into the neighbor’s yard, and I pulled in front of my house. As I opened my car door I heard his little voice accusing me: “Hey dude, er lady. You almost hit me!” I told him I didn’t even get close, but he seemed quite insistent about it. His parents haven’t served me with a lawsuit yet, so I think I’m ok. Right?
Anyway, tonight I’m tugging away at this huge weed, and he rides up next to me and asks, “Whatcha doin’?”
“I’m—pulling—(grunt, grunt, tug, tug)—weeds.”
“Why? Is it because they kill your other plants?”
“That’s—right (pant, pant, tug some more).”
He watches as I keep tugging until finally, the roots pop out with a satisfying rip. Then he looks at me and says, “You know weeds just keep growing back.”
Yes, I do know that. Thanks for reminding me of the futility of my efforts.
That pretty much killed the yard work bug, so I threw away the slaughtered weeds, and put everything away. To the kid’s credit, he did offer to let me move into his house where they apparently don’t have any weeds, but you can understand why I was a little hesitant to take him up on that offer. Instead I grabbed a lawn chair and a book, and enjoyed the fruits of my labors. Why not enjoy those weed-free flower beds while I still can?