My whole family, minus moi, has been sick for the past week and a half. Many times I considered leaping out the nearest window and taking off running, my precious, fragile good health clutched tightly in my arms. I even considered driving back to school, since I would be germ-free there, and my normal haven – my sister’s house – was infested with bronchitis and pneumonia germs.
But I didn’t. I left my poor, innocent health to languish in this HOUSE OF GERMS, and all those sneaky carriers – particularly Brother 4, Nephew 1, and Sister 5, got all up in my face, my food, and my things.
And today, when I’m bound to brave the cold to go take care of the horses, I woke up with a scratchy throat, a failing voice, and a feeling like my head was full of cotton.
massively a little bit bitter, mostly because I have a lot of stuff to do writing-wise, and sickness puts a damper on that. Whenever I’m sick I always get really bad back aches, and all I want to do is lie flat on my back and whine or curl up and pout, neither of which is conducive to words written or stories critiqued.
Nevertheless, I’m going to attempt to suck it up and be brave and keep working, but we’ll see how it goes. It’s entirely likely I’ll come home from the barn and dive back into bed, barn boots and all, and growl at whoever comes around.
Really, it seems like every time I have a great bout of productivity planned, I get sick or injure myself in some way.
But on the bright side (it’s entirely too early in the year to be bitter), I’m getting my annual sickness out of the way really quickly this year.