And so, finally, it happens. After almost 72 straight hours of feeling like you’re underwater, time basically a series of naps broken up by occasional reality television—which seems even more surreal when doped up on cold medicine—you finally, and suddenly, feel slightly coherent. Not WELL, by any means, but…better. Finally, a light at the end of the tunnel. But where did my week go?
Frankly, I think getting this sick, this suddenly, is a lesson of sorts, at least for me. I have a very hard time ever taking time off, and I think the universe finally decided to make it mandatory. You can’t relax and do nothing? We’ll see about THAT. Since Monday night, I have finished Amy Tan’s The Hundred Secret Senses (very good) read about ten magazines (I am so up to date about Brad and Jen I can’t even tell you) and caught all the way up on my Starting Overs and American Idols. I have had no choice but to sit around and completely vegetate, and while there were moments when I suddenly thought, “Oh, my God, I’m missing my class!” or “I have so much to do!” these thoughts only flitted in and then out, drowned in a Tylenol haze. Which I am still kind of in, even as I sit here watching Nick and Jessica with a stack of crumpled Kleenex beside me. Everything happens for a reason, right? Maybe this was mine. Doing nothing, every once in awhile, should be as high a priority as everything else you put above it. You can only appreciate how hectic your life has become when, suddenly, it just….isn’t. How very Zen.
And the O.C. is new tonight. Things are looking up!
have a good evening, everyone…