It’s 9.30 a.m. and I am excited to report that Joe Biden got through the night pretty well, and so did I. It sounds like it was a good debate in which he got in some good whacks. Doing his best to right the sinking Democrat canoe. Gail Collins urges Democrats in the NYT this morning to stop moaning and get a grip – it ain’t over yet.
And as for moi – preparing for bed at the fashionably late hour of 10 p.m., I took a bunch of Vitamins C and D and a big swig of the powerful and vile Benylin Night, and then, best of all, one of my miracle sleeping pills which I usually cut in half but didn’t.
Incidentally, according to my student Liz who’s a nurse, this is not the flu. There’s no coughing with flu. It’s a “flu-like condition” which is afflicting many, apparently. They don’t know what to call it. I know what to call it, but not in a family blog.
Drugged to the eyeballs, I got into bed, coughed my lungs out for a few minutes, and went to sleep. Did not awake till 8 a.m.; pushing back the curtain, saw my favourite tree, the giant Norway maple of my neighbours to the west, glowing gold in the morning sun. Came downstairs and made, for the first time in days, a cup of coffee. Coffee. Oh, I have missed you, dear friend.
My lungs still feel like two porous and flimsy cheese graters. Still wobbly with throbbing head. Cough hangs on. But the sun is shining on my tree, the coffee is strong and hot, and life begins again. I will make a list; then I’ll feel really human. #1: Must rescue the rest of the plants on the deck – my son brought in the oleander, the gardenia and the geraniums yesterday, just in time, but the poor bushy jasmine suffered through a very cold night. Hope she survived. It’s getting cold out there.
Through it all, comfortably beside me here on the kitchen sofa, the crabby cat sleeps on. You know, if you really think about it, maybe she’s the smartest of us all.
