Lay on the couch. Unmoving. I can't (no, won't) even get up to reach the remote or turn on the TV. I can however reach Lyn's lap top which was left on the coffee table, so I have been one-handly searching the net and reading things from far away. I did finally have to pick up the laptop so as to be able to type better and thus blog. I mean, really. It's all about the blogging. Even on death's door.
I am leaving to go to another retreat on Friday. I had better be feeling better by then. Because there is nothing hot about phlegm, drooling, chapped nose, horking (sp? How on earth does one spell that?? You know, the act of spitting up green phlegm) and anything else related to being sick. Ugh. The only thing I am hoping is that my new addiction to Tropicana (That's nice, is he Cuban?) will be that I get enough Vit C to feel better.
My lovely friend, crazybarefeet, just brought me fudgesicle icecream. That is the sweetest thing ever. Mmm. Chocolate icecream on my sore throat. Awesomeness.
Anyhoodles, (I saw that on someone else's blog and decided to steal it, so sue me.) I am laying here in a Winnie-the-Pooh fleece blanket even though it is 35 degrees C outside and I am exhausted. I may have a nap now.
It is times like this I wish we still lived in the house I grew up in. I liked to sleep on the stairwell landing when I was sick. It was nice and cool and I could stick my bum in the corner and sleep in a 90 degree angle. It was comforting. I'm not sure why, but that is what I want to do.