I’m feeling physically ambivalent these days – and honestly, I could go either way on that – and my recent bouts with feeling ill, feeling better, feeling ill, are beginning to wear on me. Get sick, get better, but do something!
Patience is my short suit, by the way. Sleeping under cats, multitasking, and verbal embroidery? I’m good at those things. I’m just not terribly good at waiting.
I wonder if I’m getting sick.
This has been going on for a couple weeks now; and today, at the time of this writing, I’m really starting to think that part of this whole “sick” thing I’ve been going through is psychological.
See, “sick” isn’t something my people do well. We don’t get sick. For example, while I’m relatively sure that they’ve been ill, I’m not sure my parents have ever seen a doctor. Ask them about it. Sure they’ll exchange meaningful looks, make oblique references to leaches and “humors”, sure, but admit to seeing a doctor? Seeing a doctor is tantamount to admitting to illness, which could be interpreted as you thinking that you’re “special”, somehow, which has overtones of bragging.
This is not how we do it in the Midwest.
My parents have never had questions like “I wonder if I’m getting sick?” for one very good reason.
Because they’re not. They’re not sick. They’re not sick now; they’re not going to be sick later; and even if they were, they wouldn’t tell you about it.
But here at Chez Pearl, would I be going overboard, would you think me attention-seeking, if I said I felt queasy?
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on the couch, in a blanket.
And before I forget – how could I forget? – hearty handshakes and admiring glances to Beaux over at Something Happened Somewhere Turning. He’s a fairly new reader but he made some fabulous guesses and he wins! Beaux, send me your address and I’ll send you your prize. There will be a picture posted just as soon as I find that little cord that runs from the camera to the computer…
2 hours ago