Everyone in my family has had a cold in recent weeks. And now it’s my turn. When other people have a cold it seems like a minor inconvenience and I say things like, “Get some rest. Drink more water.”
When I have a cold, I feel like it would only be appropriate to cancel school and work and hire a nurse to bring me soft tissues and warm blankets and steaming mugs of homemade chicken noodle soup.
The reality is more like me producing massive piles of used tissues and wishing I could breathe like a normal person and working while coughing. No fun.
* * *
Today was my daughter’s second-to-the-last soccer game (not counting tournaments that happen after the regular season). The sun shone and I wasn’t the only one wearing a sweater or sweatshirt even though in Seattle these temperatures would be cause for sunbathing and a trip to the water-park. It was sunny, but overnight it had been cool (fifty degrees, maybe), so we embraced the fall, such as it is here in Southern California. By the time the game started at 9:30 AM, the temperature was pretty close to perfect.
Even better than the weather was the actual game. The opponent was tough–as tough as a bunch of 10-years olds with ponytails can be–and our girls played excellent soccer. They won 3-0.
The rest of the day has been considerably less exciting. I went to Costco. I cooked homemade chicken soup and put it in the CrockPot. I napped and picked up and dropped off kids at work. I watched football with my husband while he coughed and I sneezed. I washed an awful lot of dirty dishes that had been lurking around the house. (One word of explanation: kids.) I read a book about hiking the Appalachian Trail. I worked a little at the computer and contemplated doing a load or two of laundry. (Verdict: No laundry for me today, thanks anyway.)
Now, go wash your hands with lots of soap and hot water so you don’t catch the plague. It’s too late for me, but maybe it’s not too late for you.