One Big Drip

I’m sick. I’m a sick sickie. My husband had a bad cold last week. I thought I got away Scott clean, but I seem to have succumbed. (Who was this Scott, and why was he so clean, anyway?)

I was fine at the big party we attended Saturday night. I was fine all day Sunday in the aftermath of Hurricane Irene who blew out our power but thankfully allowed our trees to remain securely upright. My throat was scratchy Monday, but we had a birthday party to go to, and, you know, that means cake. I wasn’t going to miss cake. I gargled with salt water and hoped for the best. It was chocolate cake, so my hopes were fulfilled, but I woke up in the middle of Monday night freezing. I pulled up the comforter. Elaine woke me at 6:00, as usual, to feed her, and at least then I knew the fever had broken. I pulled off the comforter and slept three more hours.

Now I’m just drippy – tears from my eyes, droplets from my nose, more tears from allergies. Needless to say, everything looks blurry. My thoughts are blurry, too, from my stuffed up head.  I think bees are living up there. 

I've been called a drip before, but now I know it's true.  I'm just one big drip.