, , , , , , , ,

Will it disillusion anyone if I say that I decided to put the above named saint on my calendar, not because of her sanctity, or because I knew anything at all about her, but simply because it amuses me that one of the largest cake decorating companies in America, the one that has seduced so many women into the lures of fondant, not to mention the countless hours spent making lopsided frosting roses, shares the name of a Catholic saint?  I’m terribly sorry if your image of me is now irreparably damaged, but it’s true.  It makes me giggle a little inside, just like honoring St. Sabas the Goth on Halloween.  And really, a girl can’t have too many inside jokes, even if she only shares them with herself.

These days I’ll take any excuse I can get for a laugh.  My dears, I am sick.  I’ve felt it looming over me for days.  There was the sore throat after teaching swing to a small horde of talkative UD students on Monday, and then the asthma attack after dancing only one moderate tempo song on Wednesday, and the headache on Thursday that wouldn’t go away.  By lunchtime on Friday I had to admit that defeat was inevitable, but hoped that with the aide of decongestants & Advil I’d at least last out the day.  By the time I got home from work I had just enough energy to text my friends telling them the Dinner Party I’d planned for Saturday night definitely wasn’t happening before I crawled into bed.  And stayed there for the next 40 hours.

Saturday I didn’t do much except sleep and, when I was awake, think about maybe reading a book.  At one point I got hungry enough that I dragged myself down to the kitchen and made myself some rice with chicken broth & cheese.  Then I went back upstairs and crawled back into bed again.  This morning when i woke up I felt so much better that I experimented with sitting upright on the couch and sewing a little.  I thought I was doing really well, and started making ambitious plans for things like, say, laundry, or even leaving the house to go to Mass.  And then I went up and down the stairs twice, in order to fetch a couple of things, and got so lightheaded that I had to sit down abruptly and stay down for a while.  After a while it occurred to me that perhaps some of my weakness might be due to having only consumed coffee and a couple of cheesesticks in the last 24 hours.  I wasn’t actually hungry, but it seemed like a good idea to maybe eat something.  I did, and now I have enough energy to type, so it must have done me some good.

As pitiful as I’m feeling today, it’s worlds better than I was feeling yesterday.  I’m hoping that tomorrow I will be feeling worlds better yet, and can go to work as usual.  Which means I should probably wash my uniforms so that I have something to wear, but that brings up the whole problem with stairs again.  I would have to go in anyway in order to do timecards (they’re due by noon tomorrow, and I’m the approver for way too many people’s pay for me to shirk that one).  Mostly, though, I don’t want to use PTO.  I want it for other things, like maybe going to visit The Young Queen, or a little extra family time around the holidays, not being stuck inside sick on one of the prettiest days we’ve had so far this year.   And yet those stupid glands in my neck stubbornly continue to be swollen.  So it looks like I may have to call in sick anyway.

Maybe if I call in sick I could finally finish watching Shaun of the Dead…

In the meantime, I seem to have come to an end of whatever coherency the fever had left in my brain cells.  So have some baby pictures:


This is me hanging out with my newest niece last weekend, before the sickness started to hit.  Clearly this child was meant to be a philosophy major.

This one doesn’t show the baby so well, but it does show off my newest Alabama Chanin style top.  So, you know, there’s that.

And now I think I’m going back to bed.