The Blanket mission, the last pick-your-blanket-pattern blanket is ready for the ribbon. It would be cradling the infant intended for it but for one thing. I’m viral. I decided to stay at home rather than breathe on the mommy while I hand it over. She’s going to have to wait another week. Hopefully the child will not have grown two diaper sizes waiting.
The Quicken Books CD mission is still in queue, maybe today. I was distracted yesterday which seems to happen a lot lately. I’ll pick up something that needs to be in another room and when I’m on my way to that room, I pick up something else to drop off on the way and when I get there, “as long as I’m here” I see yet another unfinished project from who knows when, remember my coffee cup is over there and not hot anymore, set down the first two things now out of place in a different place, go get the mug and head for the coffee pot but on the way I have to push aside dishes waiting for their turn in the dishwasher but that uses a bunch of hot water and energy to dry them, what the heck, I set down the cup and fill the sink so Mom can hear the dishes rattling. She wanted silence in church and dishes rattling at the house. As I empty some popcorn hulls into the garbage I see the M-1 wallpaper remover and remember that removing the border was one of my missions once upon a time. Five hours later the border is gone all but the border over the chair rail in the dining room. After all, I searched for the perfect paint to go with that particular border. I felt obliged to leave some of it somewhere. Oh, and there is the strip left at the top of the fireplace wall. I didn’t want to trudge through the rain to the shed for the step ladder and had only the two step ladder in the house. I ran out of height.
In the meantime, I am annoyed with a nagging tickle in my throat. I wrote it off most of the day as a result of a coughing fit from 3:12 am when I swallowed wrong in my sleep and woke up choking. Damage. Okay, I’ll get over it with a couple more glasses of water but it won’t go away. It got worse. Oh, dang, a virus after two years of dodging that little bullet. Where’s the Zicam? I see the nasal spray but where’s the throat spray? I haven’t been viral in so long it could be anywhere including gone.
From Mission Control: Zicam run.
As long as I’m here at (the) Food City, I may as well pick up supper and some firewood to take the gloom off the rain. Hey, I forgot to eat today, I could put away a T-bone. The baby portabella mushrooms are over there, these oranges look pretty good. And smoked oysters for my cracker snacks, I’ll get two cans — one for tomorrow too, we’re out of yogurt, smoked turkey, need some cheese with that, how about some healthy broccoli, omega-3 eggs, they’re how much?, and my pocket is ringing.
“Hi, Honey.” (He’s out of town and checking in.) “I think I’m coming down with a cold and am at (the) Food City looking for Zicam. Sheesh, it’s pricey! I’d better get the Zicam swabs too as long as I’m at it. What flavor yogurt do you want? Do you want the whipped or the thick and creamy?”
Back at the house, I haul in the goodies, it’s still raining, I mentally licked my chops for the T-bone, but first reached for the Zicam. They, (the) Food City people, didn’t have the throat spray so I got the spoon-on-the-go variety. Ten minutes later, after locating the scissors to get at it, I’m licking the spoon-on-the-go. Weird.
At this point, standing up doesn’t feel secure. I’m steadying myself with counter tops and walls on my way to the sofa. It’s cold in here. I see the fireplace and wood. I see the cape. The cape wins. Where’s the cell phone? Oh, yeah, the coat pocket.
“Angie, I won’t be singing tomorrow. My throat’s on fire, I’m in the house and wearing a coat….” People who know me know that I’ve been plagued with hot flashes since July of 2000, so my wearing a coat in the house is significant and a real signal that something is afoot… or athroat.
While down, you would think I’d be setting up the Quicken on the laptop. Sorry. That was way long ago in the day, before washing the dishes, before the border removal workout, before the annoying little fever. I’d already called 3 people the night before, tried to contact the Seattle branch twice, so I instead reached for the Netflix d’jour, The Orphanage. It was marked as a thriller and I’m not big on slasher crap, so if they don’t say it’s horror, I can bite. But, being a scary movie weenie, I took advantage of the special features to take the edge of suspense off. I know, what’s the point of a thriller if you take the surprise away? Easy. I’m a scary movie weenie. And there was plenty of suspense and surprise in spite of knowing how it was made.
I liked it. It’s not bloody. It’s filmed in Spain so they speak Spanish. Logical, huh? So there I am, riveted to the screen so I can read the subtitles and can’t look off to the side and use my peripheral vision like I usually do or I’d miss part of the plot and have to rewind anyway. The story is of a woman who was adopted from an orphanage. As an adult in a happy marriage and having adopted a special needs son, she bought the abandoned orphanage to restore it and care for 5 special needs children. Then spooky things start to happen. I’m going to watch it again this afternoon to catch things I missed when I actually did glance away.
As if a Spanish subtitled movie wasn’t enough in one day, later in the evening, after determining there was nothing on TV …. again …. I fired up the Netflix online option and watched a French movie set in post WWI. Maybe I’ll go looking for something in Russian or Chinese next.
This morning I have all the TVangelists on. Ed Young, John Ankerberg, Jim Tolle — never heard of him before, but they all have something to teach that I need to hear. Nothing beats live, however. There’s something just too casual about doing church in my bathrobe. but consider it merciful that I’m not in the church building hugging you and/or breathing toward you through a cloud of cold germs.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to work tomorrow. In Cubie World, you can sit there quietly and keep your germs to yourself as long as you tap all the Purell stations they have set up in the coffee rooms and copy rooms.
You now have the dates and times of when I took the Zicam. Let’s see if it works. If it does as it says, reducing the viral experience by at least half in duration and intensity, I’ll be a walking endorsement and should get royalties of some sort. We’ll see.
Have a great few days.