Originally uploaded by ahford.
Did you ever play that game "hot potato" when you were small? Well, in the past week, my family has been in the throes of a similar sport--except this time the spud in question is a particularly nasty virus.
Yesterday, when I took my eye off the wandering spud for a minute, the thing landed in my lap. Plunk! I've been relegated to the couch ever since, alternately whining that it's absolutely freezing in here, and then fulminating because someone cranked the heat so high. Do these people have any idea how high our gas bill is?
It was you, Mom, my son happily reminds me. Oh yeah. So okay, I'm not the best patient.
In my normal life, I always think it would be fun to spend a day or two on the couch--catch up on my reading, maybe even take in a guiltless hour or two of TV. But I'm here to say, resting your bones amid a nest of blankets and pillows is highly overrated--especially when every bone is an aching one.
But what really amazes me about this experience is the thin and highly permeable wall that separates health and sickness. Yesterday morning, I was practicing Bodokon, running errands, making long lists of things to do, and then (as I do every day) accomplishing about half of them. I was in possession of the world and all its possibilities. By three in the afternoon, I was imprisoned in my body.
And so--as much as I'd like to be reading my favorite blogs, or responding to intriguing comments, finding the right niche in my house to work on my next novel, booking plane tickets to Prague or Portland, or lurching toward the adventures that take place mostly in my mind, I think I'm going to head back to the couch and see what's on TV.
Thanks for listening.