>Husband took off for the weekend, with my encouragement. Amigo and I are both sick, coughing and weak and feeling generally lousy. Husband wanted to know if he should stay home and take care of us. I said no, go. He did, but we could tell he was a little worried.
He did the right thing. He’ll come home late Sunday night to a messy house, with wastebaskets overflowing with tissue and no laundry done, but he will also keep himself away from the worst of the contagion. By the time he gets here, mom and teen will be a bit more rested and no longer actively spreading our germs to anyone within breathing distance. And since Amigo and I are starting to get better (slowly, but surely), it would be a lousy weekend to be here “caring” for us. Basically, Amigo rests on the couch, I doze off in the recliner, and we wake up now and then to watch TV or read a book or eat a bowl of soup or jello. Neither of us have a fever today (thank goodness!), so I feel like we’re on the road to recovery. We are cranky, but we are cranky at each other, so it’s all equitable, right?
Amigo was sicker than I was, poor kid. I feel lousy because my asthmatic lungs won’t expel the thick ugly stuff that wants to live there, but Amigo’s temp was much higher and he is having a much harder time regaining his energy. He didn’t touch the computer for almost three straight days. For him, this was a clearer indication of illness than the 102.4 temp.
La Petite did not come home this weekend, either. Staying at school was safer for her.
I’m not looking forward to going back to work. If I feel better, I’ll take advantage of our day off on Monday and go in to work at my desk. If not, I’ll rest all day. Either way, I have a huge amount of work piled on my desk and very little energy with which to approach it. Sigh. I need to stop thinking about what I’m missing. It keeps me from relaxing enough to sleep. In fact, I had a nightmare last night about falling even further behind in my work and then ending up in the hospital for pneumonia and a poor unknowing substitute having to wade through my papers to teach Growth and Development, a.k.a. Sex Ed. (That thought is actually rather humorous)
Dreams may come true — but I didn’t wish on a star, so hopefully this one will fly away instead.