jan_can_too (jan_can_too) wrote,

Chicken Soup for the Body

I seem to be coming down with something. Nothing interesting, mind you, like dengue fever or cholera or diphtheria, just something that makes me feel totally exhausted, headachy, irritable, and stupid, with a slightly runny nose for extra bonus points. I know this sounds like my usual state of being, but trust me, this is worse.

I hauled my behind out of bed at the usual 4:30 so I could do my journaling, shower, make lunches, and eat breakfast before rousing the kids. By 6:30, Syd was out of the shower and into puttering mode. T.R. was dressed and fed and his teeth were brushed. I lay on the couch until 7 in a semi-dreaming state in which I was remembering a conversation I never had with a short Asian woman with gray hair. Definitely coming down with something.

I sent Syd and T. into Peet’s on their own so I wouldn’t have to get out of the nice warm car. They came back with madeleines and an apple pastry in addition to what they went in for, but really it was a small price to pay. Syd, eating a cookie, said he thought he should be remembering his French childhood. T. said nothing, being absorbed in the last section of Outcast of Redwall.

Frodo and Sam continue to inch their way toward Mordor, following Gollum. This morning’s installment featured the cooking of two rabbits. Frodo slept through the whole thing. I felt like I was going to, too, but I didn’t because I knew I had to drive back home afterward.

I immediately tucked myself back in bed, where I dreamed that I crashed my car in several unusual ways. I woke when Brent got back from the gym. He thinks I have a temperature, but I am not checking because it will just make me feel worse if I do have one.

Besides, we were scheduled to get pedicures at noon. I needed to get up for that! (Brent’s toenails are their natural color; mine are Firecracker, a bright red with glittery bits. Both of us have smoother feet than we did before.)

After a healthy lunch of ice cream, I started to make a healthy dinner of chicken soup. Apparently my food-planning self knew I was not going to be feeling entirely wonderful today as early as last Saturday when I went to the farmer’s market and bought a chicken from the nice men with the chickens, the eggs, the potatoes, and the amazing sweet potato pies. I try to forget that last part because I know I should eat fewer sweets. Between the chicken soup and the ice cream, I should be better by tomorrow.

Just in case, I might take another nap before I go get the kids.

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