Only I would catch some horrible virus just as the weather gets hot. We're looking down the barrel at 104º by Monday, and I have a fever. Do you know how uncomfortable that is? To anyone experiencing menopause related hot flashes, you have my upmost sympathy.
It started slowly, with a scratchy throat. That blossomed into a feeling that I can only imagine is akin to gargling with broken glass. By the next morning, I was coughing and sneezing and fevered and looking rather like hell. My poor future hubs.
I was (am) absolutely infuriated. I have too much to do, too much gardening, too much organizing, too many recipes to finish to be sick. I didn't (don't) have time for this crap.
But migraines have a tendency to change even the best laid plans.
Fevers in an un-air-conditioned house suck.
I'm a pain in the ass when I'm sick. I know it. I try not to be but I'm honest enough to admit that I'm not very good at fighting my more annoying tendencies once a virus takes hold.
For example, when I'm sick, I only eat a very specific (short) list of foods. I never deviate. It's the only stuff that tastes good with a heaping side dish of upper respiratory infection.
- Pastina stars (available in the Tex-Mex aisle), beef broth, and sriracha, cooked together and eaten out of a mug. Yes, a mug, it's weird out of a bowl, don't question the healing juju.
- Ginger ale. If I absolutely have to, I'll slum it with 7-up or Sprite.
- Green tea with lemon and honey.
That's it. Try feeding me anything else when I'm ill and I get cranky. Try brining home the wrong brand/flavor of cough drops and I will most likely tear up and get wobbly. I'm not proud of it, but it does happen.
I've been known to drag myself down to the really dodgy Scolari's close to our house, the one where you may get mugged at 10am in bright sunshine, to buy sickie foods. The future hubs is not happy with me when I resort to this.
I still went to work of course; I made it until 11.30am before I called "uncle" and headed home. My mom lent me the Super Spoiled Fuzzy Fathead to add to my recuperation, just in case that cat wasn't up to nursing me on his own.
It was like trying to take a nap with two hyperactive toddlers in the room, after they'd split a Costco sized box of Swedish fish.
Fathead was not helpful. He was in a talkative mood. He'd whimper and do variations of his hound dog howl; the cat would answer with chitters and little meows and all the weird noises Maine coons are known to make. They went back and forth for more than an hour. I finally thought they were done, and started to doze off ... and they were back at it. The cat started bringing toys to play with. The dog rolled around and kicked me in the face. The cat laid on my (very hot) head. No, kicking them out of the bedroom was not an option, they are my fuzzy wuzzy stuffin' muffins; and the kitten kept touching noses with me every time I hollered at them to shut up. Sweet kitty.
Then I felt bad for yelling (plus yelling made my throat hurt worse than ever), so everyone got a cookie and I dragged myself into the back yard to throw the tennis ball.
Two days later, I'm still feeling like death warmed up, taking multiple icy showers to try and cool off, and drinking gallons green tea.
On the plus side, I discovered Vernors Ginger Soda, which is delightful. Starbucks china green tea with the lemon in it however ... it kind of tastes like alfalfa smells.
Fun things like tomato bruschetta and pasta alla carbonara and roasted corn salad are going to have to wait until my immune system as fully kicked this virus' butt back to where it came from.