Now if someone will just move the cat from my face...

I remember coming in the other day and sitting down at the computer and posting on my blog for the first time in a long time.  I was taking a break from food preservation chores and enjoying every second of my time away from the stove/freezer/dehydrator...you know, the tools of the trade for Little Susie Homemaker.  I went to bed after catching up with about half my friends on-line.  I was so upset to hear about their losses and tragedies, but then there were those who had triumphs and victories in life and that cheered me back up again.  So, that was on Saturday.  I had canned 7 quarts of pears and knew that I would do no more until the coming weekend.  I remember going to Church on Sunday and greeting friends, adding Anya and Wilfred to our prayer list http://anya-kareltje.blogspot.com/ because her situation is so desperate at this time. (I urge you all to go read up on her situation and pray for them.)

But then came Sunday night.  I had a slight cough and my head began to feel as though it were stuffed with jello.  I've heard people say it is like cotton wool, but no, Jello is definitely what it seems to be.  I stretched out on the sofa and put a pillow beneath my head and under my knees while waiting for the person who might bring me a cold compress for my head and a warm drink for my hands.   When no such creature appeared to take care of my aches and snuffles, I got up and got the damned cold compress and made myself a cup of hot tea with honey and cinnamon. Grouchy was going to be the theme of the day. I also fetched a roll of paper towels, this was no job for Kleenex.   I sat, legs pulled beneath me, holding the cup gripped in two aching hands and sipped.  I placed the cold compress on my neck and immediately took it off while I developed a chill.   I remembered my little cross stitch sign I had done from an old Erma Bombeck quote:  Why do my family get to have flu in bed while I have it at the kitchen sink?   I dimly wondered what had ever happened to my lovely little cross stitch piece.   I cursed the garden that robbed me of Mac's tender care...damn garden.

So, I am not sure exactly how sick I should tell you I am.  I do know that I came to at least once  with one cat on my stomach and another wrapped around my neck.  I sort of whimpered and Mac came and moved JJ off my throat and went to move Hound, the cat from hell,  where she now lay possessively across my chest.  That was a mistake.  He quickly pulled his hand back while it was still attached to his arm and left me to my misery, Hound my only guardian.  Someone, the hot tea fairy maybe, brought me a cup of tea and wanted to know what was for supper.  The glare in their direction sent them scuttling backward.  That was Monday.  Tuesday I was up at the stove trying to fix Mac a hamburger when older son asked if I wanted him to do it.  "You sort of look like you might dive head first into that frying pan, " he warned me.  Turning over burning dinner duties to him I stumbled back to the sofa and the remote control.

Then  came Wednesday.  Still with a hacking cough, head more like warm tapioca  than Jello, I'm not making the mistake of taking my temperature .  I took it on Tuesday to find it was 101 and immediately felt 101% worse.  Won't do that again.  I tell Mac and older son if anyone calls to check on me to tell them I'm sitting up and taking a bit of broth. While I really don't feel much like phone talking,  oddly enough blogging relaxes me.  But I see that I've probably been up long enough, when everything I've just posted suddenly disappears from the screen.  Damn Windows 7.  Damn garden.  Damn Tea  Fairy.  But I hear that somewhere there is a Toddy Fairy.  So I'm wishing for a Toddy Fairy, and hoping she'll make it a double.