It has indeed been the winter of my discontent. God help me, I've been sick again, or sick still, I don't know which. Last weekend I had a runny nose and didn't feel great and then Sunday night I got hit hard…barely made it into work much this week. I went in today and realized how wobbly and wretched I felt. Somehow at home it's harder to judge….in a different environment it is so clear. I'm ok, but damned tired. Tired physically and mentally. Tuesday evening my brother in law (whom I love) stopped by. I opened the door and he looked at me and said, "Did you even go to work today?" I took this to mean I was not looking my best. Today when I got to work there was a bottle of Purell sitting on my desk. I'm not sure if this was a warning of some sort or a defensive move.
And so it goes.
I went to Carle today to get shots in my knees. In another positiver Carle note, I love Casey Shroyer so much that I would happily get shots in my knees every month, just to chat with him.
In other news, Rascal likes cheese popcorn. For some reason this delights me. Ernie was driving me home from the doctor appointment and we passed the popcorn place on Springfield, near the railroad tracks, and I murmured "popcorn." He asked if I wanted some and I said yes so he went around the block, and went in and bought me some. I love that man. When I got home he brought me a bowl of popcorn, some Star Wars paper towel for my cheese popcorn hands, and a glass of freshly brewed iced tea, oh, and Rascal's favorite blanket. I'm so lucky to have someone that gets me. I hope I'm as nice to him as he is to me, but not sure that's possible.
Soon I will move to the couch to lay down as my body is demanding that and we will watch our latest British tv show, Doc Martin. Now I just want to live in a quirky village in Cornwall.