Well, the trees are in bloom, the leaves are coming in nice and green, and the azaleas are flowering.
Spring.Is.Here. And I have a Winter Cold. In motherf**king Spring. I made it theough our nasty cold damp wet soggy frigid freeezing winter without so much as a sore throat and now I get a cold?
A tinge of a sore throat on Sunday, a day we’d planned to make our way to church for Easter services … and by ‘church’ I mean CostCo. Hey, we all worship in our own ways. I worship the thought of enough toilet paper to last till the End Times, but that’s just me.
Carlos asked if I felt up to the trip … 90 minutes up, 90 minutes back … and I said, ‘Sure.’
Off we went; a beautiful sunny day for a drive, though lots of traffic with folks going to and from Church, or Wal-Mart, I couldn’t tell. But we finally made it up there and, well, CostCo isn’t open on Easter.
Ninety minutes back. And then back to bed for me.
Monday was stuffy, sneezy, grumpy, headache-y, cough-y and just plain miserable-y. It was a gorgeous day, and I was off from work, and I so wanted to work in the yard, seriously, and yet it was all I could do to stay upright in a chair,
Bed at 9:30. Nyquil? Check. Aspirin? Check. Vicks Vapo-Rub on the chest and up the nostrils? Check.
Sidenote: because of Carlos’ adorable accent, around our house we call it Bick Boppa Rue.
Carlos let me sleep in — off again today — and so I didn’t wake until 9AM, with a stuffed nose, a dry mouth a puddle of drool on the pillow, and a headache, and memories of what I call Nyquil Dreams. Quite hallucinogenic, I’m guessing, and lovely and crazy and, well, now nothing more than a memory.
That’s all … Soldier on.