I can’t decide which is worse: getting sick or the winter storm that just hit us. Maybe it’s shoveling piles of snow and being sick.
It all started at Christmas. You know, a time of good cheer when friends and loved ones are nearby. Except they were all sick. And too nearby. And then I got sick. Like really sick.
Tried fluids. Vitamin C. Rest. Medicines. Nothing was knocking this bug out. Just had to wait it out, sweat, and hate everyone who had coughed on me.
I’m better now, but small symptoms of the hell virus still linger, including coughing. (Don’t worry, this blog post isn’t contagious.)
The snow outside doesn’t care. It’s been piling up. So wearing a coat that wrapped me up like a sausage in an over-sized hotdog bun, I managed to carve out some paths on the driveway and front walkway. Occasionally, I coughed.
Did I get any writing done? Yes. But I won’t say what for now, at least not until the end of March. And I’ll keep writing.
Do you care that I was sick? Or about the three foot high snow? Probably not. But now you know what I’ve been up to. Go away, or I’ll cough on you.