A small illness

I wonder how many blog posts/diary entries/letters have begun with "I hate being sick." Or how many have begun with "I wonder how many..." (but let's not go down that recursive road). At any rate, I've had a nasty cold that knocked me out of life other than what was absolutely necessary: feeding Maia, caring for Chloe, going to work because the US sucks for maternity care and I don't have any sick days and we can't afford to lose any of my time. Ahem. I went to bed as soon as Chloe did for several nights running, or tried to; Maia's close to but not yet at the point where we want to start sleep training her (she needs to space out her meals a little longer first) and so if she wouldn't sleep, I couldn't. Theoretically Eric could watch her, but he's got a deadline on the textbook he's writing, and I do want to let him have the evenings child-free when he can since he has them all day. Of course that doesn't, or shouldn't, mean that he goes off duty when I get home, because that would mean I was working all hours while he wasn't, but I can be kind.

I'm still not well, but my body is in cleanup stage: cough winding down, gunk removed not being replaced, hunger starting to come back. I read the other day a description of shingles that ran something like "They don't just give you medicine for the pain, they give you antidepressants to manage your mood" and realized with interest that I'm never depressed when I'm sick. I mean, I'm unhappy about being sick; but I don't have that my life-is-worthless, the-future-is-dread kind of mopeyness. Maybe it's because when I'm sick, the future is bright because in the future I won't be sick. Or that when I'm sick my body shuts down higher-level things like existential angst and focuses on survival, which is wholly appropriate. At any rate, I look forward to being able to afford existential angst.

Yuck

Ugh. I've had what I think is food poisoning all day, waxing and waning, and have just concluded it with a communion with the porcelain god. Amazing how immediately I feel better, though. I wonder if other parts of my life are like that. But not much. Mostly I need to take my pills, prep for tomorrow, and go to bed so I can do tomorrow the things I meant to do today.

Vaccinations for all

I've had a mildly sore throat--tickly, feels better when I drink a lot--for thirty-six hours now. I had a slight bout of sneezing yesterday morning, and a slight attack of body aches yesterday afternoon. Did I mention that Eric is sick? From his fourth day of teaching? I've clearly caught it from him, but the onset is so slow that I'm hopeful that either I'm merely being inoculated and showing some vaccination reactions, as it were, or that the cold itself will be very mild because my body's evidently had time to marshall its defenses. Eric is very bitter about this.

I have also already failed as a housewife. He has no more clean underwear. It's laundry night for me.

We went to dinner last night at a relatively new Italian place for Edith's birthday and Eric's sister's, and it was fantastic. The gelato and the cappuccino were the only things that weren't delicious, and since I don't drink cappuccino and there was birthday ice cream waiting at home, that wasn't a big deal.

The ice cream went over very well. I made it Tuesday night, since Eric was still sick. We had chocolate mint, chocolate orange, and peanut butter chocolate with Reese's cups. The chocolates were a little soft and the peanut butter a little hard (probably because I put in twice as much peanut butter as the Ben & Jerry's recipe recommended--the flavor wasn't too strong either), but they were a hit. Eric's brother-in-law--well, I guess he's mine too--suggested we sell our ice cream at the farmer's market and Eric was sorely tempted. We'd have to work on scoopability, but I could see it being a fun day if we did it. I've been wanting to get to that farmer's market.

Being sick in the garden of exploding eggplants and weddings

Being sick is lousy. This is not exactly an original thought, nor an original excuse for absence; but that's all I've got. Sniffling, nose-blowing (and accompanying Vaseline-itizing of my nose, a slightly disgusting but pain-saving measure), coughing, and popping aspirin have been occupying most of my time the past...two weeks now, though I was getting better last week and had this annoying resurgence. I'm sure my colds didn't used to last this long. I must be getting old. I've still got a dry cough that only responds to lots of liquids--medication doesn't seem to be helping at all. Yuck.

I've been anxiously awaiting planting weather, and it will be here Wednesday. I've never looked forward to spring quite like this. We bought raspberry canes and blueberry bushes and one grape vine this weekend, and I'll be planting them this week. I'm trying to decide whether to put the blueberries in containers, since they like somewhat acidic soil, or to plant them in the ground and put strawberries in the container instead, which will free up more room in the raised bed for parsley, which I want to grow for tabbouleh this summer. So many choices. Good for occupying my mind, though, since it requires no work and that's about what I've been capable of (or at least inclined for) until the last few days.

One night near the beginning of the cold I dreamed that I had planted zucchini and tomatoes in my bed, and I was trying not to move so that I wouldn't disturb them. I was disoriented for quite a while before I woke up enough to realize that there were no plants in my bed whatsoever and there was no reason I couldn't get up and reapply some cough syrup. (This was before I realized the cough syrup wasn't actually helping. All that horrible taste for nothing.) Another night I dreamed that my cousin Bev had planted eggplants and asked for my advice. I told her that the ones that had fallen backwards were fine, the ones that had fallen forwards were in trouble, and the ones that had shot their fruits up in the air like firecrackers were unusual but not a big problem.

We have two months and eight days until the wedding. This has scared both of us. The invitations are about half printed--it's on vellum so we're going slowly so as not to smudge them--and the map that Eric is spending way too much effort on is almost finished. We've decided that wedding stuff must now have first priority. We'll see how that works in practice. The house is a mess, partly because I haven't been on him quite as much to put stuff away, and I want it to be in good order (not just cleanliness-wise but things like putting up shelves, mulching the flower beds, putting the books away) for the relatives who will be coming to see it and the after-party that will be held in it. Not to mention a possible wedding shower Edith is--maybe--throwing for us. It's a nice thought but she seems to want us to do all the work, and neither of us are inclined to plan our own shower, especially since there are only two months and eight days until the wedding.

I had forgotten.

Oh my GOD does Robitussin taste bad. But I use it anyway, because my parents drilled it into me when I was small that if it tastes bad to me, it'll taste bad to the germs too.

The river and me

Up until yesterday, the river had actually started to thaw. I drove to Andersons the day before yesterday, the sun beating at my cheeks, making my car almost uncomfortably warm, and crossed the river that was dark and flowing, and I wanted to cheer. My usual commute to work involves taking the big, I-75 bridge across the river (the Maumee, incidentally), and instead of being flat white it looked like a junkyard, or--better--like a beach after a rainstorm, sandy slabs piled over one another, cracking and crumbling, the water rippling and shoving from behind.

Yesterday, though, it was cold, and today it's snowing. I heard a weatherman say on the radio today that it's good we're getting cold weather in March, because if we didn't we'd be getting it in April. I'm still not used to this prolonged winter, and I've lived in Ohio for, what, four years now? (Christ. And another two to go.) I went to Andersons for soil and seeds to start some plants going, but I haven't employed them because I've fallen prey to a cold. I don't know where it came from, unless my seat at the symphony Saturday was germy, but my head aches and my sinuses hurt and yesterday my muscles hurt, and I've been having boring, stifled dreams. I had hoped that would be a fluke, but no, it seems that boring dreams are here to stay, at least when I'm sick. This is completely unfair. Last night I dreamed I was trying to start my garden, only I kept getting interrupted because I had to answer the questions: What is a garden? What is life? What makes for a good philosophy? etc. because they were crowding around me, blocking me from doing anything. And then I had to make a grid of all possible coordinates for someone. Blechh. My boss's boss is taking us to lunch today, as a thank-you for holding down the fort last week while half the department was gone, but I think I'm going to skip it and read Pride and Prejudice (I started it last night; I was in the mood for comfort reading) instead. We were going to Tony Packo's so it's not like there would be anything for me to eat anyway.