You know you’re sick when you can’t knit. I can’t even bear to touch anything, or have anything touch me, and the very thought of wool running through my hands makes me squirm. And that’s just too sad. A cold, sure, knit away. But this kind of flu? I want to lie in bed and never move again.
But I’m up for a minute to say: Thanks for the comments. I swear to god, I got up just to read them, to make myself feel better. And they work! I love two things when I’m sick, and two things only: 1 – taking my temperature (I have one of those electronic dealies) and 2 – getting nice notes from wonderful people who want me to feel better.
The only thing about being a grown-up and living alone is that you have to take care of yourself. It’s so easy to just let the kleenex pile up on the floor and eat nothing but vitamins and that last piece of wrapped cheese, but it does make you a little sad. Just a little. I was lying on my sofa, thinking of the good old days when my little mama would cater to me, bringing me Nilla wafers and 7-Up, and I wished for one small feverish (101.5) moment that I was little again. And you know what?
That’s when sis Christy came over bearing:
Taco Bell Mexican Pizza
Aren’t I luckiest? Just a little food in my tummy and a lot of love in my heart – I’ll be better in no time and knitting again. Now back to bed with me (101 even).
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