I’m sick. Grumble grumble. It amazes me that some tiny little creature could cause so much havoc in my body. It’s quite rude, really; tiny or no, it received no invitation from me. Even vampires have to be invited into your home before they can walk through the door. Is one parasite really so unlike another? Where is your decorum, little bug?
Everyone has their own patented methods to heal from a cold. Hot baths or chicken soup or apple juice or various other what-have-you. I believe is the sacred saving graces of sleep. My body knows what it ought to be doing about the little bugs, so I’d best get out of the way and let it get on with it.
That’s once I’ve admitted I’m sick. On Tuesday night, when I was still in denial, I went to ballet class anyway. I was significantly, in-ignorably sick a few hours later, but I nailed some fouette turns so I suppose it was worth it.
So I’ve spent the better part of the last few days in jammies, sleeping whenever Luke would permit it. (Luke is, of course, right as rain now and full of his accustomed energy.) Shawn has been home most of the week (first to take care of Luke and I, and then because the bugs bit him too) and a gracious friend brought me ballet movies and knitting books today, so really it isn’t all bad.
Our house is in the throws of its own little upheaval right now. The painters have arrived. We’ve been talking about painting this house since we bought it four years ago and talking seriously about it for at least two years. We finally picked out colors, interviews some painters, and booked the job. The demolition portion of the job began today, with a few good-natured guys ripping big chunks of dry rot off the walls and cheerfully examining the gaping holes underneath. (Somehow I’m reminded of the little bugs.)
The work has proved entirely entertaining to Luke, who spent much of the day glued to the windows exclaiming, “Wow!” or “Guys!”
I took him out to show him the sample colors I had thrown up on a back wall. He dutifully pointed to the new colors and named them each in turn: green, white, yellow. When he reached the end of my sample patches and got to the original house color, he looked back at me, confused. “Eh?”
I understand his confusion. The current color of this house is not quite brown, not quite beige, not quite peach. If Crayola were to name it, they might called it earthworm (and you know how I feel about worms).
“That’s the old color, honey. It’s yucky.”
“Eew,” Luke replies.
Eew, indeed. So here’s to patching things up again, be it houses or humans, and getting rid of the eews.
Good health be with you.