“Be not sick too late, nor well too soon”
When I marathon cough, Gracie, my protector, leaves the room and goes to sleep in her crate. If she senses I am done, she returns to the couch. Her watch dog association must have amendments which excuse her from having to endure extreme noise by her owner.
The other day I heard a loud bang outside. My first thought was a breaker, but I still had electricity so that was out. A car backfire was the next guess, but I can’t remember the last time I heard a backfire. I don’t even know if cars backfire any more. A gun shot was last my guess so I checked the time so I could give the police officer a true reckoning of when the crime occurred. Nothing happened: no electric company, no disabled car and no police officers. The loud bang remains a mystery.
Yesterday we went to the dump and to Agway where I bought cat food. If it weren’t for the cats, I would never have left the house. The last stop was a Dunkin’ Donut where I bought coffee and a croissant. They were my reward for getting dressed, mostly dressed, and for dragging myself out of the house. I got home, finished my treats and went to bed for a well-deserved nap. All of the lugging and throwing of magazines, newspapers, cardboard and bags of trash in various receptacles was tiring.
The felling ill isn’t the worst part. It’s the boredom. I can’t seem to concentrate on a book for too long, and I haven’t finished the crossword in a couple of days. I did the cryptogram but that’s just my assurance that I am still keeping Alzheimer’s at bay. I haven’t seen the end of a single television program. I lose track. Tomorrow is syfy movie day so I don’t need my wits about me. It’s a winter theme with snow beasts: Rage of the Yeti and the highlight, The Abominable Snowman.
I haven’t seen people this week. Friends dropped some cough medicine, M&M’s, some sandwich meat and some chips, a balanced diet for a cold. They didn’t stay. I am typhoid Mary.Explore posts in the same categories: Musings