I had a dream I was in Austin, Texas, visiting the daughter of my mother's best friend. She wasn't Her-Her, but more of a hybrid: a mix between her and another girl I barely knew in high school, the neighbor of one of my good friends. So complicated!
Our plane was late.
She seemed to resent our arrival.
Though she lived in a very large house, we all slept in her bed.
I heard her complain about us to the neighbors and when she served us spaghetti and beans for dinner, mine slid off the plate and onto her carpet. I ate it anyway, while she looked on with disgust.
"I like your mom," I told her, trying to find a point of entry.
"I don't usually make small talk," she said.
Wake to Chacha's morning mantra, a somewhat weepy: "Mamamamamamamamamamama." Feel Chuck wake, remember that I'm sick, slide out of bed and pad down the hallway. They both return, Chacha with Abu the Elephant and Honey Boney, the perpetually sleeping soft baby who came with her own sleeping bag. One tucked under each arm.
A fit is had. She wants me to go downstairs and watch her eat oatmeal. I want to conk out and dream of a place where I don't have to think about my throat everytime I swallow. Calm voiced negotiations occur and her father whisks her away.
Wake at 11 a.m. to a fresh smoothie, which feels amazing, and coffee, which also feels amazing. A sore throat, it seems, needs temperature fluctuations.
1. Go to work.
2. Stay home and sleep.
3. Stay home and work-work and home-work.
Lean toward 2 while thoughts of 3 creep in.
I could sleep, but also do some laundry.
I could sleep, but then go to the grocery store later.
I could sleep and also read Fates & Furies.
I could listen to podcasts, paint my nails, Christmas shop and get in a good, long workout.
Remember that I am home because I am sick.
Babysitter arrives, takes away child for a few hours.
Crawls into bed.
Can't. Stop. Typing.