Sometimes even the best-laid plans go kaboom. And such was the case with our Thanksgiving plans. We had been planning a sojourn out of town when a mild virus decided to take up residence at our house a week before the holiday.
Still, no worries; these things come and go, and I usually fight them off pretty well. And this one went as well - charging through me like enraged Indians going through Custer’s hapless troops in 1876.
We cancelled our plans to go out of town, but still bought turkey and all the trimmings (has anyone ever considered what a strange turn of phrase that is?) in preparation for our small dinner at home.
In the meantime, I still felt like crap. Tracy, who usually gets these things worse than I do, escaped fairly lightly this time. I, on the other hand, whined my way through the week, all the while insisting that I was A-Okay.
I won’t bore you with the details of my journey into the Kingdom of Crappiness; you’ve been there yourself, Zealot Reader - suffice it to say that I wasn’t in the mood for giving much thanks.
Finally, a couple of days after T Day Tracy made the Trimmings and all the Turkey, and we sat down to watch a movie and enjoy our repast. “This is really good,” I said, a few minutes before I ran to the bathroom and threw up.
It was good, though.
Like Dante’s Circles of Hell, I passed through each stage of suffering, not exactly being stoic . . .
. . . oh hell, let’s just leave it at that.
Finally, I was on the mend. I was feeling better. I made plans to go downtown last Friday morning and work on one of my projects at fayetteville Public Access Television.
Tracy said, “I don’t think you’re going anywhere tomorrow. I’ll send Chuck a message on Facebook and tell him you can’t make it.”
I scoffed at her. “”Yes, I am. I’ll take a long shower in the morning, I’ve got some books to donate to the library, I’ll get some coffee while I’m there, I’ll walk around, get some exercise,” I babbled as I walked into the hallway.
For all the sense I was making, I may as well have added, “. . . and then I’ll build a big rocket ship and go to Mars.”
I stopped after a couple of steps, and hard, cold Reality in the form of sudden weakness swept over me. I back up a little and whined, “Could you please send Chuck a message for me, and tell him I won’t be be there tomorrow?”
She laughed and said yes. I went to bed.
All’s well that ends well, though, and I really do feel better now. I’m writing again, getting exercise, and we are planning to spend Christmas on Dauphin Island.
Though every time I think of Dauphin Island I think of Huckleberry Finn . . .
Today’s blog was written to the tunes of the CD “The Best of the Village People” - cuz sometimes you finally feel like a Macho Man.
Quote of the Day
I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing. - Agatha Christie (1891-1976, British Mystery Writer)