Well, here I am again. Home sick. This is… week six of this cold? Actually I think this is a new cold. I was really and truly getting better — Cough of Death merely a background irritation, very mild sniffles, energy coming back. But then I decided I was All Well and raked all the leaves in the back yard and built a leaf compost bin (from recycled plastic chicken wire). And by the end of the night, I had throat scratchies and sniffles starting again, and then by the time I got to work yesterday I was coughing more, and by 9 am it was obvious that I was Not Well. I went home around noon, stopping by the store to get vitamins and soup and such, and by the time I got back into the car to head home, I was begging the light to change because I could not STAND being in the car feeling so icky one second longer. I needed to be home in bed NOW.
Got home, put on sweats, made Theraflu, did the last little bit of work I needed to do, and fell asleep at around 3:45. I woke up again at around 8:30, fed the cats, ate an English muffin, drank some water and went back to bed, where I slept until 8 this morning. That’s about 15 hours of sleeping. I got up and was going to go to work, but after taking a shower and eating breakfast, felt really woozy and weak, and started feeling tired again, and figured that I could probably do what I needed to do, from home, and then take another nap.
So that’s what I’ve been doing. Doing some work, resting, drinking lots of fluids, staying warm. I’m going to attempt another nap here pretty soon. I’m just exhausted. I guess my body needs a lot more recovery than I thought it would — too much stress for far too long. I’ve been eating and resting and taking care of myself but I guess I’m still vulnerable and my defenses are still down. It might be time to pull out all the stops and go to the acupuncturist or something and try to build my immune system up. I might do that, actually.
I’ve started a new painting. My book-reading is still super-slow. I’m not even really reading magazines. I’m working my way through Henry James’ “Daisy Miller,” however, for my book-club tea next Saturday. We usually read a short story for our December meeting. I’m liking the story very much — it makes me want to read more James. You know, when I can read more than one or two pages at a time.