... of being sick and tired. I thought I was on the mend but got such a wave of nausea yesterday morning on my way to run errands that I turned right around, came home, and went to bed with a bucket next to me. Arrrgh. (and not the fun, pirate-y "arrrgh" either) My cold symptoms have abated. I haven't taken cold medicine or cough medicine in 24 hours, but I have been on a steady diet of yogurt, dry toast, and "the pink stuff" for the last day. This isn't fair. This is my 10th day of feeling like crap. I had a sore throat on Feb. 1st, sounded like a Muppet on the 2nd and 3rd, had a full-blown cold until Sunday, felt a bit better on Sunday, a lot better on Monday, and BOOM! nausea on Tuesday. I quit. I'd like to sign off this virus train, please. Can somebody punch my ticket and slow down this juggernaut so I can disembark? I'm hungry, my muscles hurt, and I'd like to sleep with my husband. Please?
I thought this morning's squirrel diners were looking particularly fluffy, understandable since it's about 6 degrees with a wind chill we won't discuss. I am layering up to the ears because I have to work which means I have to go outside at least twice today. At least it's sunny. That's something.
I didn't knit a stitch yesterday. I just lay around with my iPod plugged into my ears and listened to a book, and not an uplifting, edifying book either, a whodunit in a series set in the woods of northern Minnesota and Canada. It's folksy and small town, and I like it. Perfect sick day listening. Sick days, blech, I've had enough of sick days to last the rest of the year, at least.
February 10--Desert Sunset. Sarah sat on a stone bench feeling the day's heat radiate off into the cooling night. The sun had slipped below the far horizon leaving the sky tinged with pink and purple light. The first star appeared with an almost audible pop and hung twinkling like a fairy in an enchanted garden.
Time to drag in the emptied garbage bin, finish my coffee, and pile on my final layers. Talk to you later.