Feed A Cold
So I lasted three days before I jumped off the bandwagon of my own advice.
Number One on my Advice List (Know-It-All) from just a few days ago was to ALWAYS say you feel pretty good when someone asks you how you are. No casual acquaintance really wants details on your phlegm.
Right after I wrote that, my husband came down with a really bad cold. Two days later I came down with a mild cold. I think mine is mild and his is horrible because of the amount of complaining that has accompanied our illnesses.
But to be fair, I really do think he was a lot sicker than I was. He looked and sounded terrible. I didn’t look my best on Saturday, but then I pulled myself together and put some makeup on.
We had planned to go apple-picking on Sunday at the gorgeous orchard we visit every year, and it was a warm beautiful day. So we took our medicine and went on with our plans.
At first we felt a little chilled, but as we walked (and walked – it’s a big orchard), we began to feel better. Of course the apples we like were acres away from the pears we also wanted. So it wasn’t long before our bags felt too heavy, our noses too runny, and our foreheads hot and sweaty. We admitted to each other that just perhaps we weren’t quite up to it. It is nice to make allowances for your obvious physical shortcomings.
And I ran into some old friends – fellow writers who helped me on the first draft of my still-in-process novel. i will use as an excuse that I was a bit light-headed from the meds.
Because I greeted them warmly, and kissed and hugged them both.
Then of course they asked how I am, and I said, “Oh, I have a terrible cold!”
I said this after I kissed them!
I wanted to smack myself right on my sweaty forehead.
I felt so bad I went to a restaurant and had a big cheeseburger and french fries. And ate every bite.
So there went Advice #8.
And I went home and didn’t vacuum. (# 9)