Posted tagged ‘bed’

“There is no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.”

June 5, 2017

Last night was a long one. It rained the whole night. Gracie and I went out at about ten. I got a bit wet and so did she. I was still wide awake an hour or so later so I watched a Hallmark movie. Yes, it had a happy ending despite arson, theft and a murder. At one, after the movie, I roused Gracie to take her out again. She got to the door and backed away, but I was insistent. I should have paid more attention. It was a deluge, but she needed out for the night so I pushed her out the front door with me unhappily behind her. Though I ran as quickly into the house as I could, I got soaked anyway and so did she.

This morning at about eight, Gracie was restless, and she woke me up. We went outside. It was wet but not rainy. It was cold. We came back inside and I went back to bed, or back to couch to be more specific. I snuggled under the covers and the cozy warmth lulled me to sleep. Gracie joined me. I woke up at ten. Gracie was still asleep so I rousted her to get her outside. I led her to the yard then ran inside the house and made coffee. I read the papers and had two cups of coffee. It was a leisurely morning.

Rain is expected again today so the sky is mighty dark. What a surprise! I have some errands, and it is chilly enough for Gracie to come.

When I was a kid, rainy days always seemed different than other days. My classroom seemed quieter. The rustle of papers sounded loud. The rain on the windows caught my attention as the drops slid down the glass and disappeared. The day seemed longer. Lunch was inside, but we didn’t really care. The rain seemed to drain our energy.

In Ghana, I loved the rain. After the dry season ended, every rainstorm was a bit of a miracle. The brown turned green. The dust became soil. Trees sprouted leaves. The fallow fields came alive with the tiny shoots of corn and millet. Rivers sometimes overflowed their banks. I always felt the rain and never minded getting wet.

“If a doctor treats your cold, it will go away in fourteen days. If you leave it alone, it will go away in two weeks.”

October 15, 2015

Today is the mass in honor of my mother who passed away ten years ago. I am not there; instead, I am home coughing, sniffling and complaining though no one is here to listen. I do not get colds so this threw me for a loop. My guess is I caught it at the reunion where someone, a Typhoid Mary type, was passing the germ amid all the hugs and kisses. I am not happy.

This will be a short post. I’m going back to bed after dousing myself with a variety of cold medicines. My voice is so deep I could sing bass or make obscene phone calls. When I cough, Gracie lives the room. The cats don’t even notice. They sleep right through my hacking.

I’d like one of those talking dolls they sold when I was a kid. They had a string you pulled to make them talk, and they said things like “I love you,” but I want mine to say things like “You poor baby” or “How about some nice hot chicken soup?” I remember The Twilight Zone episode when the talking doll was evil. “My name is Talky Tina, and I’m going to kill you.” I’ll pass on that one.

The common cold has no cure and you just have to let it runs its course. I sleep and take medicine to dull the symptoms for a while. The only hope I have is pneumonia. That they can cure.