Trying to get a fitted sheet on the bottom bunk bed mattress is like wrangling with the oily dead body of a 800lb giant in a dark low cave while trying to dress him in a wetsuit: difficult but not impossible.
And so, that phrase (difficult but not impossible) became my mantra over the last week and a half as I struggled to complete everyday tasks with an alarmingly high fever and an appalling lack of sound decision-making skills.
I drove to and fro, made appointments, spent time talking on the phone, actually turned a few things in prior to deadline, and attended a seminar where there were dancing squirrels, a sad minotaur who spoke in Mr. Belvedere’s voice and the keynote speaker was Val Kilmer.
The flu makes everything possible.
Anyway, I’m nearly fully recovered at this point so I can look back and laugh at the several thousand foolish decisions I made during my sickness, but there was no denying that firmly believing my dog was speaking to me in French was the highlight of day two.
And for all you naysayers that insist that just because I listen to the ’40s station on Sirius XM radio does not mean that I am walking around in a rain-swept Woody Allen movie all day long were proven wrong when my body temperature reached 103 and I distinctly recall running into Alvy Singer and Annie Hall in my kitchen while they cooked lobsters.
Today started out well.
Aside from that ant that I SWALLOWED WHOLE because he crawled up into my coffee cup, but that was merely a tiny hiccup easily overcome.
But where was I?…….
Oh yes, today and how glorious it is.
This day is in stark contrast to yesterday when I spent endless hours suffering the crippling effects of a raging urinary tract infection that I had tried to ignore.
My husband finally came home from work and implored me to throw in the martyr towel and go to the doctor before I ended up in the hospital again.
I have this odd habit of denying any sort of ailment that doesn’t have me flat on my back with an IV dripping fluids into my body. Usually by the time I’ve snapped back to reality and taken stock of the gravity of the situation it’s too late. I get a nice emergency room trip and occasionally an extended stay!
I can’t say I dislike the quiet time while doctors and nurses wait on me hand and foot but they probably have more pressing issues to deal with like gunshot wounds and unfortunate car accident victims.
I slept late (11:00 am y’all, suck on that!) and came downstairs to a ready-made pot of hot coffee courtesy of my long gone husband.
Glancing toward the south I noticed one of the dogs had crapped up the rug in the back of the house but I’m not letting that dampen my pain-free mood.
I’m going to pop my antibiotic and painkiller, wash it down with a cup of joe (ant optional) and spend the next few hours joyfully scrubbing dog shit out of my rug!