When Are They Not?
Monday. The chest cold I felt developing over the weekend has arrived. I don't get many colds. One a year? It's been more than a year, I think, since the last. They say you get fewer colds as you get older. I've heard your immunities build over time, no small children around to give you the grut (except for the small children of the people you work with, but that's, you know, part of the package). So I'm home, no thought to write, except I'm writing. This. Not sure why.
Tuesday. Better. A restless night, some chills in the early morning (get out of bed and take a hot soak in the tub), the teeth aching (Take a Vicodin I had left over from the operation. I don't do that very often, let me tell you.), the head clearer and the outlook brighter by breakfast. A day now for naps and naps. Too fuzzy and tired to read, but better than yesterday. I was thinking of going back to work tomorrow, but I might not.
Strange days, I guess, but when are they not?
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