On a Cold October Morning

Fog and mist have enveloped The Hideaway and darkness lingers longer than usual. The thermostat was set on 50 degrees overnight but the furnace kicked on early this morning. A reason to stay abed and I am grateful that was possible.

Now I am ensconced on the couch, wrapped in afghans and comforters with my tea and a big box of Kleenex. I have a cold. I have it. I am not fighting it. I have let it engulf me. I have surrendered, succumbed, given in. I am snorting, snuffling, blowing, coughing. The full range of behaviors that are unacceptable in public.

Everything is on hold. I am not answering the door or the phone or reading my email. The bed is unmade and the dishes sit in the sink. The paper is waiting to be read and the bookmark in my novel is on page seven. My knitting is dormant. I have managed to drag myself up to feed the pets (that is non-negotiable) and I have put the kettle on for more tea. The TV is on thanks to the remote and I am watching California go up in flames.

Now as morning lightens outside the window I will snuggle down with the cats and doze off and on until I rally to make lunch. If this goes on much longer (this is day four) my daughter will come with veggie soup and, hopefully, chocolate ice cream for my sore throat.