This week has kicked my butt. I’m not exactly sick. It’s like I never got to the “can’t get out of bed so I get to rest and watch terrible videos all day” stage. I just went straight to the “mild headache, with mucus in Technicolor” stage. I’ve been sucking it up and going to work anyway. I took some Dayquil the first few days, but I forgot about Dayquil. I always feel like I’m seeing out of too many eyes and my brain can’t quite make the links I want it to, even though it’s making most of them. So now I’m just suffering in silence and drinking as much liquid as possible. Hot tea for the win. And I’m much better than I was on Monday. I’m sure I’ll be fine soon.
I blame my misery on the weather. I like the rain. I like the sunshine. But when the day swaps back and forth from pouring to shining, to pouring while shining, it does a number on my sinuses. And it all happened mid-day, too, which meant no pretty rainbows to make up for it.
I have learned this week that there’s an award for the book with the oddest title each year. Among those currently in the running are “Nature’s Nether Regions,” and “Divorcing a Real Witch: For Pagans and the People that Used to Love Them.” I think those two are gonna be neck-in-neck.
Spring has come to Redlands. I pointed out the spring-green bits on the top of the giant tree in our front yard, and Brian groaned. “It starts…” he said. “All those leaves to pick up next Fall.” I’m thinking instead about the lovely deep green it turned last summer, and all the cool shade we got. The neighbor’s plum tree lops over a bit into our yard and I can see the white blossoms through my bedroom window. The Roger’s Reds went from looking like twisted dead twigs to sprouting little silver leaves no bigger than a dime. I have a feeling the yard is going to start looking closer to how I want it to look in no time.
The kitten has decided that we’re writing buddies. Or rather, that she wants me to stop writing and be buddies. She has eaten two of the cloth bookmarks tethered to my Moleskine notebooks, skittering around the table after them. When she realized that wasn’t working, she attempted to sit on the notebook. When I still didn’t stop scribbling, she sat on my hand. My aunt is in the middle of a house re-do and she gave me a tiny desk with an adjustable sloping top. The kitten doesn’t understand why the surface isn’t flat. There has been much snuffling, some climbing and sliding, and a bit of trying to climb underneath the mechanism. She’s SUCH a problem. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. Her problematic mannerisms are what make me love her so much; and that deep, throaty purr of hers.
The last news this week is that 2015 might be just as filled with babies as 2014. First set of friends just announced they’re having a girl. I’ll go get out the crochet hook…
Casey E. Hamilton 