Yesterday I had a headache. I took a short nap before work, lost all sense of balance, woke up in time for my shift, and proceeded to stumble my way around the kitchen, making salads for happy customers. Soon afterward, something hit me like a steam locomotive and I found myself in intense pain, trying very hard not to toss my cookies. I went home early.
Since then – approximately 24 hours ago – I’ve been on the couch, no longer in horrible pain, but still feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck. I’ve discovered that Ethan is quite possibly the best caretaker I’ve ever had (Mom is an exception, obviously). He bought me graham crackers, brought me a GameBoy, and generally has kept me company every waking moment since then. Here are some of the past-times I’ve discovered along the way:
This show. Oh, this show. Ethan became obsessed with it about a week ago, and I thought it was dumb. Then I watched it. And it’s still no work of Michaelangelo – but good heavens, is this show funny. Oh, Gruncle Stan.
Yup. Ethan rifled through his old stuff to find his GameBoy for me. (Keeper, this one.) I forgot how long this game takes to get anywhere. I also forgot how awesome this game is. And why have I never previously named a Sandshrew “Taco”? I may never know.
Yup. Moses. Good stuff. ‘Nuff said.
Because what sick day would be complete without a historical research on the origins of puffed rice?
Viktor Frankl is the greatest. He not only survived the Nazi concentration camps, he had the guts to talk about it afterward, in hopes of helping others move on and better understanding the human psyche. Check out this quote: “The more one forgets himself – by giving himself to a cause to serve or another person to love – the more human he is and the more he actualizes himself.” If you haven’t read it, repent.
I hope it won’t take another fever to spread gladness and cheer again. But just in case…
the only prescription is more cowbell. ♦