Hey! I’m over here! Over here! In the house – no! Look up! You see up here? Second floor? I’m stuck up heer! Help! Help! No! Up here!!!
Ohhh. They’re gone.
I’ve not left the house since Tuesday, my head packed full of toxic goop, my throat lined with sandpaper, my touch-and-go ability to organize my thoughts reserved for the blog and to successfully navigate my way from my bed to the bathroom and back.
I’ve put on make-up today, for the first time since Tuesday, and it makes me feel better.
It’s funny, spending a lot of time by alone. When you’ve been grounded by illness and the rest of the world is at work, what do you do? Like a woman in physical therapy, I’m working on keeping what I have, using my observational skills to recreate the world outside.
Here’s what I’ve noticed:
- I have upset the cats’ schedules. Both Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) and Dolly Gee Squeaker (formerly of the Humane Society Squeakers) have been checking the calendar, checking their little wristwatches, wondering why I’m here. (This does not stop them, of course, from parking their fuzzy little butts on my couch-bound body.)
- There is nothing I want to eat in the fridge, even if I did have an appetite. A pudding of some sort sounds nice, but I don’t trust this milk…
- I brought an eggbeater into the bathtub the other day, remembering a conversation regarding bubblebaths that Derfina and I had had months back. I looked only half-heartedly for the food coloring (thinking blue or green would be fun in the tub) but gave up easily. The bubbles, however, were worth the effort.
- The shows on TV during the day may have lowered my IQ. I can no longer spell lackadaz – lakadaisi – lackdaisac – laid-back. I think my branes have been roont.
- And speaking of roont branes, I am bored, bored, bored. And you know what sounds really good me right now? A margarita.
If you’re out and about today? Look up and give a shut-in a wave, would ya?