At Least It's Not A "Man-Cold"

I had one of those nights on Monday that started out perfectly normal, and with each passing hour I seemed to develop a new symptom – which by the end of the night had turned into a full-on head cold. It has now consumed my life. I cannot fathom moving away from my Kleenex box, I have blankets and slippers scattered throughout the house as they are tossed off or grabbed onto depending on the fever vs. chill situation, and I look upon a hot cup of tea with the kind of awe and gratitude that would normally be reserved for a chocolate éclair. It’s been almost a year since I’ve had a cold – but this one is packing a punch!

That being said – there is always an upside. As lousy as I feel, there is a great deal of delight in knowing that I am not expected to make dinner. I cannot tell you how sick I am of making dinner! This is not true every night. There are times that I am genuinely pleased to try out something new. During my respite from the working world I have happily experimented with new marinades, rubs, frittatas and gleaned a great deal of comfort from homemade soup. However, no matter how satisfied I have been preparing a meal I know I am never more than 23 hours away from my husband hungrily re-appearing in the kitchen. I honestly don’t know how my Mom managed to make dinner night after night, year after flippin’ year, without losing her mind. I mean, how many things can you be expected to do with a chicken? This pressure is somewhat self-imposed – but without a job these days, I feel the least I can do is come up with something to feed my hard working breadwinner. If a raging fever gets me a few days off – maybe it’s not so bad.

I suspect my body may have conjured up this illness because it learned of my plan to start training again. I have touched base with an inspiring fitness loving Angel named Sara, and had planned our first session this week. It’s like when a dog hears you talking about the “V-E-T” and suddenly they’re hiding under the bed. My body must have caught wind of the impending mutiny and has come up with its own offensive.  It won’t last forever – but a couple of days in bed watching episodes of Toddlers and Tiara’s can only ultimately inspire me to change my life for the better.

Stay well – send Kleenex!

An Easter Purge

I have heard from a few of you that my blog has been missed as of late (although I’m sure all have managed just fine) and I appreciate it very much. I am also grateful for the lovely lady who chased me down in Safeway over the weekend, and pretty much begged me to return to my former employment. I have chuckled about that daily. It was both very funny and very kind.

I will admit to having indulged in spending the last 6 weeks “off the grid”. After years of being required to constantly plug in to the world happenings, I am rather enjoying the freedom that obliviousness brings. It has allowed me to confront the kinds of jobs that only get done when you are well rested and killing time until cottage season begins.

Although my husband and I combined households over 3 years ago, I still had boxes that were never touched, and closets in desperate need of purging. When I first began my “employment sabbatical “, I intended on tackling these tasks immediately. As it turns out, it took about 5 months. In keeping with my control freakish nature however, once I began the process of re-organizing the house, there would be no rest until I was completely finished. I have yet to develop any kind of propensity toward moderate behaviour. I approach all areas of my life like a bag of potato chips. It’s all or nothing – no reasonable portions here.

My closet was a veritable tribute to the stages of my life. I wistfully clutched some of the smaller sizes that seem impossibility at this point, I recalled wonderful evenings spent in various frocks that I had long forgotten, and I shook my head at a variety of questionable fashion don’ts that for some reason, at least temporarily, struck me as fashion dos. I tried to be ruthless when it came to the donation bag. The more I purged the more I wanted to purge. There is great relief in letting go, whether it is a grudge, a betrayal, or painter pants. My catharsis continues…..

On the Monday that I committed to the overhaul my husband returned to a master bedroom that no longer contained a single item belonging to him. Our closets simply don’t allow a leisurely dressing experience, so he was relocated across the hall. I tried to sell it as a luxurious, multi-room closet extravaganza – but I’m not sure he bought it. Then again, as long as he has a corner to throw dirty socks, and a place for his 467 Marvel Comics themed T-shirts, he’s a pretty happy guy.

I still let him sleep in the master bedroom – so that’s pretty good, right?

Happy Easter – I hope the Bunny finds you in great health and happiness!