I felt a little like Punxsutawney Phyllis today -- for the first time in four days I stepped outside my house and into the world. I had to; we were starting to run out of fruit and bottled water and other necessities of living. I'm still feeling pretty far south of well, but at least I can swallow today, and I'm not lying in bed with a fever, hearing the clock strike 16 and thinking to myself, "This can't be good."
I took a long, mikvah-esque hot shower with my hippie-handcrafted exfoliating peppermint herbal soap to scrub the sickbed funk off me, then anointed myself with a dab of CK 1 for some additional insurance against smelling like an old gym sock. I glanced in the mirror to see if I looked halfway presentable; I didn't, but I couldn't do anything about it. I hid my hair (think Laurie-Anderson-but-not-on-purpose) under my beret, took a deep breath -- which precipitated an unlovely phlegmish hacking attack -- and headed to town.
It's amazing how much the flu can take out of you. I had a long list of groceries and dry goods to purchase, and halfway through the supermarket I was pretty much letting the shopping-cart momentum drag me down the aisles. I saw another shopper who looked to be pretty much in the same boat, healthwise, as myself; I noticed others keeping a wide berth around the two of us. Bells, I thought; we need bells.
By the time I got to the checkout I had wilted to the point where, if someone had handed me an afghan I would have wrapped myself up in it, curled up on a bench and said to hell with the groceries. The staffed checkout lanes were all backed up into the aisles, so I found myself alternately ringing up and packing my purchases in a self-serve checkout while the register kept kvetching at me. I know I have to bag my items! Shut up already!
Anyhow, I am now home, consoling myself with a dark-chocolate-marzipan bar and a cup of white tea from my all-too-far-away food coop (where friendly humans help me bag my groceries even when I don't need help, and never kvetch, at least to my face). I think I may take a pass on church tomorrow.
5 comments:
Oh, Chik, the moments I most want my mommy is when I have to drag my sick body to the grocery store. (And the lines are always full, then, too). You have my sympathy.
(Those self-serve computer voices are slightly demonic).
My sainted grandmother -- you know the type: in church three times a week, at least; never said a spiteful word of anyone; and a pox on anyone who partook of the demon rum -- had a cure for your kind of ailment. It was one part honey, one part orange juice, and two parts of some liquid she kept in a jar under the cabinet. Cruiosity drove me once to sneak in the cabinet and sip that mysterious drink. It burned. I didn't know what it was then, but later experience leads me to believe she may have bought it in Kentucky.
I don't know if it cured her or just put her in a state she didn't care if she was sick.
Bless your heart - that flu bug can zap the strength out of you for weeks and even though you think you "feel pretty good" - getting up and moving around to do normal stuff will remind you how sick you have been. Take things slowly and don't overdo.
Although I don't even play a doctor on TV, when I am feeling punky it always helps to try to break the fever, which I do by sweating it out. Eat a bunch of hot soup, preferably chicken (of course). Slather obscene amounts of Vick's VapoRub on your chest and throat. Wear a flannel garment. Drink hot tea with huge amounts of lemon and honey in it. Tuck into bed under lots of covers. Sweat mightily. For some reason that always helps me.
I am just getting caught up on my blogging and saw you've been down with the flu.
I haven't had it yet but have witnessed the return of office mates that have and girl, its not pretty.
So, you have my deepest sympathies for having had to go through it and my heartfelt giggles at your description of you at the grocery store. Just know this...there are days I go out and wish I had the flu to blame my appearance on. : )
Glad you're coming back out of it. God bless.
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