If I lived up North, I’d say this was the Season for Being Sick. Everyone stays cramped up indoors for long periods, avoiding the snow and ice and cold. Or, they are in and out of the cold air, which (by tradition, at least) leaves the body susceptible to viruses and the like.
I live in the South, though. We don’t have snow and ice. It sometimes gets down into the 30’s…at night. We don’t stay cooped up indoors, exchanging germs all winter. Still, there has been illness in our house.
J was sick Monday and Tuesday with fever, headache, sore throat and stuffy nose. She finally went back to school today. She was so happy to go back. She really loves school, and it killed her to break her Perfect Attendance record for the year.
Last night, I felt ill. After dinner, my stomach was roiling and my head was pounding. I didn’t know whether to bow to the ceramic goddess or curl up in a small ball and hope the Gods of Sick would let me go unnoticed. As it turns out, the Sandman came for me instead. For ten hours, I slept. Neither the ceramic goddess nor the Gods of Sick swooped down to claim me for their own.
I’m not quite up to par this morning. Better than I was last night though, for which I’m grateful. My head’s not quite right still, and the kitchen is not my favorite place in the house (random food smells), and my body is sore. Still, I dare to hope that the Gods of Sick have passed me by for now.
