I am very ill.
More ill than I have been in recent memory. Probably the sickest I have been in my adult life, if you consider severity and duration. I'd been hacking and choking for two days, bad enough that I strained the muscles across my ribs. I actually gave in to the combined nagging of my mom and husband, and went to the doctor yesterday. She listened to my lungs, looked in my ears, and told me I have a bronchial infection.
So I am taking antibiotics, for the first time in 14 years. Last time, I was a sophomore in college, suffering from impacted and infected wisdom teeth.
I stayed home again today. I slept til noon. I asked the SP to bring me some chicken so I could make soup. Yes, I must make my own soup, because I cannot tolerate the stuff that comes in a can. Although it would be nice to have some of the Cream of Chicken and Almond soup that the Hardware Cafe used to make. Too bad they're out of business.
The good thing about taking antibiotics, especially when one has never taken them before, is that they work really fast. My skin is already looking great. I still feel a little dizzy from the fluid in my ears, and weak from my lungs not functioning efficiently, but I am home, and kind of lethargic, so I've been sewing. I completed a slubbed-silk bias-cut skirt that I first cut out almost two years ago; it's hanging in my closet waiting for a Spring-y day. Yesterday I cut out and assembled a white linen vest with a short standing collar; it's quasi-Chinese and quasi-Victorian cowgirl.
I think today I may put together that tweed jacket I cut out last October. But then there is also a silver silk shell, cut out and waiting for attention. Who knows? Sewing is soothing. And when I concentrate on things, I'm less likely to cough.
You know, despite being sick I feel happy. It's a sunny day outside, if not warm. My sweetie called to wish me a happy birthday and say he was bringing my present home. He's been working hard on my office this month: the monster of a workbench has been sanded and coated with polyurethane. He'll probably install it this weekend. The woodwork has been stained, shellacked and is looking lovely. He says its the most interesting thing he's gotten to work on in a while.
The cat is sitting in the sunny window, looking at me and purring. I've got a slice of homemade blueberry bread, made with Mom's homegrown blueberries, sitting here on a plate, warm, with plenty of butter, and a cup of tea. Brandi Carlile is on the CD player. I just got a birthday package in the mail from Mom and Dad; they sent me a pair of deerskin gardening gloves.
All in all, not a bad birthday.