Saturday morning, there was no desire to get off the couch. I had fallen asleep on the love seat at some point Friday night with the dog curled up in the crook of my leg. He knows when I’m down for the count and will rarely leave my side. I laid there, watching the news and checking my email for the better part of an hour before I finally got up. That didn’t last long, so I retreated back to the couch and burrowed under the afghan my Mom made around the time my brother was born. Twenty eight years of warmth in that thing. I love it.
Eventually I fell back asleep, only to have my husband wake me up with a steaming cup of hot tea. I took one sip, looked up at him and said, “Did you put whisky in this?” He smiled. “Hot toddy for the hot wife.” Breakfast never tasted so good. The thing with this cold is that it just won’t go away. I feel better, then I don’t. I quit coughing and then I can’t stop. My voice vanishes, then it comes back. Saturday night, after staying up and drinking bourbon with my friends, I decided that I’d put an end to all this sickness and swing by the minute clinic.
They opened at 11 a.m.
I was there at 10:55 a.m., third in line.
When it was finally my turn, it was after twelve in the afternoon. The nurse swabbed my throat to clear me of having strep (I don’t). She asked all the questions, even the “Is your blood pressure always this low? Good God!” Yes. It’s always that low. It’s like I’m the walking dead. Prognosis? You have a cold.
I took my prescription to the pharmacy, only to have them tell me they don’t have what was prescribed. What the actual hell people. I left and got home at 1:30 pm. The first half of my day was spent at the Minute Clinic, sleeping in a plastic chair, propping my head between my scarf and the end cap of aisle four.
The rest of my day I spent laying on the couch with the dog. I watched several movies and after finishing The Longest Yard, took a steaming hot shower. I retreated back to the couch. Back to the blanket. Back to sipping whisky in an espresso cup. In the late afternoon, I drove back up to the pharmacy to drop off my prescription. They said it would be fifteen minutes. It took forty five. I slept some more in the plastic chair with my head against the end cap of aisle four.
The remainder of the night, was… you guessed it, laid up on the couch drifting in and out of sleep. I did manage to go outside and see the Christmas lights my husband put up. We’ve never decorated the outside of our place before. Yes, I realize it’s a little early. However, we’ll be traveling quite a bit in the next month, so why not get a leg up on the situation. Also, how brilliant are netted lights? I’m not big on Christmas, but I felt a little twinge of happiness in seeing the lights. I’m still waiting to spend a Christmas on an actual vacation. Just like the Kranks.
And here we are, Monday morning.
The co-workers and I are comparing cough medicine and trading Ricola’s like baseball cards. We’ll be working late this week and I’m not impressed with the weatherman’s prediction of “wintery mix” for my commute to Nashville. Yknow, I’m just not going to worry about any of it anymore. Some shit you just can’t control.
Stay toasty friends, cheers