… not in the “rad” or “cool” or “I’m so impressed” way.
Sick as in ill. Under the weather. BLAH.
I think I just have a regular cold. It’s been a while, so ehhh… I suppose it’s due time. I have a nasty sore throat and a bit of a cough, some congestion, and riDICulous sneezes. So, yeah… The Usual. Nothing to feel too much pity over.
When I am sick, I crave things of comfort. We all do, right? I thought for today’s truth, I’d share mine:
- My mother’s cooking. In particular, pasta e fagiole (soup) and jambalaya. I’m not sure why these two in particular. Actually, I think this changes from time to time, but this was what I was craving today.
- My cat. Luckily, she was here with me all day, though I did have to negotiate over some space on the couch. Sheesh.
- NeoCitran. WHY o WHY do I not have this in my home?! I must remember to buy this on every trip to Canada. 🙁
- Poetry by Margaret Atwood. I love Atwood, but there is something about her poetry that takes me back to simpler times in my life. My favorite poem of hers is “Variation on the Word Sleep.”
- Someone to read to me. I know this sounds weird, but I don’t care. I really really love being read to, and when I’m sick, I miss this. I’ve been living alone for a long time, but it’d be nice to have someone come read the newspaper to me… or a story… or something.
That’s all. I’ve taken some (apparently addictive) cough syrup with codeine in it so hopefully I will sleep. I slept a grand total of 7 hours last night and then another 4 today. My body feels exhausted — apparently it is in recovery mode. I feel totally zapped. I’m taking lots of vitamin C + zinc + ColdFX (another Canuck med) + liquids to flush it all out. Wish me luck!
Variation on the Word Sleep
I would like to watch you sleeping, which may not happen.I would like to watch you, sleeping. I would like to sleep with you, to enter your sleep as its smooth dark wave slides over my headand walk with you through that lucent wavering forest of bluegreen leaves with its watery sun & three moons towards the cave where you must descend, towards your worst fearI would like to give you the silver branch, the small white flower, the one word that will protect you from the grief at the center of your dream, from the grief at the center. I would like to follow you up the long stairway again & becomethe boat that would row you backcarefully, a flamein two cupped hands to where your body lies beside me, and you enter it as easily as breathing inI would like to be the airthat inhabits you for a momentonly. I would like to be that unnoticed& that necessary.
– See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16221#sthash.arB1s2yB.dpuf
