Cold knees and flannel sheets!

I am sitting here in a linen tunic and mismatched compression socks and mild to moderate weariness, in front of a north-facing window in 37F weather, wishing that I were asleep under a princess-and-the-pea stack of quilts, duvets, and random large animal pelts. And dreading what comes next: braving the garage to fire up first the washing machine and then the dryer. My knees are as chilly as my marble rolling pin.

I worked a bit of overtime this afternoon, to make up for my early log-off on Thursday and the two and a half hour staff meeting that ate a third of yesterday. One small corner of my work world has been weeded and pruned and dunged and deleted. (Yes, I am sneaking up on Jacob 5 in my scripture study.)

I did nip out for a few minutes this morning to pick up a prescription, but as far as groceries are concerned, let's just say that the people who deliver my Instacart orders have every reason to happy with me today.

One of the items I ordered was white bean chicken chili, which will go into the microwave shortly before I schlepp the linens off my bed and into the washer and will be my reward for adulting. I also ordered two sets of flannel sheets on closeout, online, and they should be here in time for next weekend. One set has small generic flowers, and the other has unicorns and rainbows, because pandemic + bronchitis + cellulitis + ennui = a fundamental requirement for unicorns and rainbows.

And I will fight (in English drive-by style)* anyone who says otherwise.

*"Oh Reginald? ...  I disagree!"

I hear the Mandalorian calling my name.

Capisce

 

From an email chain with a business associate. I had replied “Capisce” to an email she sent, and her response was, “I haven’t heard that word in a very long time.”

Picked it up when I was married to the children’s father, long ago in a universe far, far away. He was born in Manhattan.  Funny story: he was WASP (White Anglo Saxon Protestant) but had olive skin and (gorgeous) dark brown eyes. (Are you old enough to know of or remember Omar Sharif? Eyes like that.) When he was growing up and riding around on public transportation, religious men of various faith traditions would ask him, “Are you ___________, my son?” the blank being Italian, Jewish, Greek or Russian Orthodox, you name it. And when he got into conversation with another native New Yorker, he would talkreallyfastlikethis. So yeah, from him I learned capisce and a whole lot of other useful and useless things. And he gave me five amazing kids.

In other news, there has been no knitting, but I did ta-daaa! finish reading a book. A real book. With paper and everything. I think it's the first book I've completed this year. Up until very recently, the year has been mostly a blur of tired, sick, and sick-and-tired, which plays hob with attention span and memory. I am also closing in on finishing The Mysteries of Udolpho, which I would have finished by now if I were still commuting to work. (I listen to the scriptures on the drive in, and to audiobooks on the way home.)

It is bitterly cold outside. Winter storm, stay off the roads, yadda yadda. I'm still ~ barely ~ feverish, so I will not be hitting the trail anytime soon.

I had another wonderfully productive day at work. My goal for tomorrow is to muck out my personal mailbox, as the To-Do's and the resource mailbox are both miraculously and momentarily under control.

You have no idea what a relief that is. I'm still using the shiatsu neck massager several times a day, but my shoulders are hovering just above where normal shoulders would be, rather than up in the vicinity of my earlobes. And this afternoon I took a short break to try a chest-opening exercise I read about earlier this week, the one where you brace your forearms against either side of a doorway and lean forward. My left shoulder doesn't whine, but the right shoulder and ribcage are definitely hollering their version of childbirth words. This is because I spend the vast majority of my sleeping hours curled up on my left side, and my right shoulder rolls up and forward until it grazes my ear or chin.

Probably more than you wanted to know about my sleeping habits.

The spring catalogue from Gudrun arrived in today's mail. There is a dress I love that is early-bird priced at $89 and I have a $50 coupon because of all that I invested spent last year. This year's goal: spend even more and get a bigger coupon at the end of the year. I already know that I want all of the new petticoat colors that are currently being offered.

 

A suspiciously Really Good Day

Disclosure: I am killing (or at the very least, bruising or mercilessly teasing and tormenting) time while waiting for Wordle to tick over.

I was well enough today to skip one dose of my inhaler and two doses of cough suppressant. I have, however, dutifully taken all of my evening meds. After work, I left the wrangling of two Instacart deliveries in the capable hands of the bipolar bears, and I took a four-hour nap that was sorely needed and much appreciated.

Yesterday I was able to bring my To-Do's up to date. Today I got all but one of the allotted ones dealt with and winnowed down the inbox relating to my record-ordering tasks to a manageable half-dozen emails or so, which I shall dispatch when I log on again in the morning. My personal inbox continues to resemble the Augean stables. I hope to have it more or less under control by the end of the week.

I'm still running a low-grade fever, and my appetite is unpredictable. May I state for the record that the Kirkland supreme pizza with sausage and pepperoni on a cauliflower crust is an improvement over the Milton pizza I've been eating for three years or so. There are seconds waiting in the fridge for tomorrow.

The taps are dripping, because we're expecting another freeze tonight. Ah, the joys of living in Texas, where the weather is even more unpredictable than my appetite.

May I also state for the record how nice it is to breathe deeply and freely; to laugh without consistently triggering a coughing attack (there were only a couple of those today, soon over); and to experience fewer episodes of nodding off while vertical.

That's all I have for you today. Sitting here in gratitude with eight minutes to go before I Wordle.

Three Days In

I think this new combination of meds is working. I got through the workday with minimal brain fog and distraction, in part because of all the sleep I got over the weekend. I still had a low-ish fever this morning. It will be interesting to see if that carries through to tomorrow.

After work, Fourthborn accompanied me to Braums so I could pick up more milk and orange juice. I wanted someone riding shotgun in case I had a sudden lapse in attentiveness or consciousness. Thankfully, neither occurred, and I got a few minutes of one-on-one time with my kid.

I did take a catnap during my lunch hour, just enough time spent horizontally and dozing that I woke up slightly discombobulated, but that passed quickly. I do not understand how some people can take a 15-minute or 20-minute nap and get anything out of it. Does. Not. Compute.

Tonight I dug out my Zentangle supplies and listened to The Mysteries of Udolpho while attempting to follow this week's prompt in the classics group. I also preceded that with the first episode of season two of The Mandalorian. I learned very quickly that watching TV (i.e., paying attention to the plot and watching the action) is not compatible with drawing and that pausing the program to tangle for a few minutes sucks all of the joy out of both activities. Did I finish the tile? No, but I still have the better part of ten hours left on my audiobook, and I am intentionally not rushing the project. I'm quite pleased with roughly half of it, reasonably pleased with another quarter, and soldiering away on the remaining quarter, which I trust will look more impressive once I've shaded it.

My knitting has also been stuck for a couple of months; maybe it will come unstuck as well.

It is now officially Tuesday morning, and Wordle has ticked over. Later, gators.

Patch, patch, patch.

My office manager called me today, concerned that I am not getting better. It was genuine concern on her part, not a passive-aggressive "we're losing money on you, kid, shape up!" After I got off the phone with her, I called my PCP to see if he had any slots for today. He did not, so I told the receptionist I would come to the after hours clinic. Which I did. The doctor on duty was new to me. He has a South Asian surname and the most glorious brown-black eyes I think I've ever seen. They're even more beautiful than Omar Sharif's. (Yes, I fell in love with Omar Sharif when I was a teenager watching Dr. Zhivago with my parents and again when he was in Funny Girl.)

I now have two new prescriptions, a steroid shot in my derriere and a list of instructions as long as Chutzpah's arm. To wit:

1. Take a Covid test. Good thing our free tests arrived a few days ago. This means downloading an app to my phone, having one of the bipolar bears help me capture the QR code googling how to find the QR scanner on my phone, watching some videos, and then following the instructions.

2. Use my inhaler every four hours that I'm awake this weekend, and then as needed.

3. Monitor my blood sugar, because steroids increase it. I have that kit that I've been ignoring since it arrived. No more excuses.

4. If I'm not better in a week, go in for a chest X-ray.

I have a different antibiotic this time, doxycycline. I've read the possible side effects, none of which mention suicidal ideation, so I think we're good to go. The other is benzonatate, for my coughing. Side effects sound livable, and I'll be emailing the office manager to tell her that I shouldn't drive while taking it.

Result of Covid test: negative (as I expected)

I've eaten my chili and picked the chicken off of my chicken Caesar salad and put the rest of it in the fridge for later. I'm torn between staying up long enough out here to play Wordle when the clock ticks over, or fluffing my nest and watching some Disney + while polishing off my mango smoothie.

All in all, I feel better than I did mid-afternoon. I wonder if the urge to alphabetize everything will kick in overnight and if there will be roid rage as the shot (which is supposed to last several weeks) tapers down in my system.

Could be an interesting weekend.

 

Up to scratch.

Literally. I woke myself scratching dry, flaky skin off my hand and arm. Fiercely. Relentlessly. And then I realized that I was ridiculously warm, so I detached myself from my CPAP and padded out to the thermostat in the hall. The glow from the nightlight in the hall bathroom was insufficient for me to tell whether we were set for heat or AC. So I padded back into my room, grabbed my glasses and my phone, and padded out again.

 Heat.  Fixed that, then went back to my room for my thermometer. 100.1F, or 101.1F for normal folks. Which is a great number for an FM radio station but not so much for me. I've swilled a half-litre of water and cracked open a second. I've worked all of my daily AARP puzzles. And I am worrying away on the Ricola which is currently ricocheting off my teeth, my tongue, and my hard palate.

I would vastly prefer to be horizontal and unconscious right now, but my nose is running like the bulls of Pamplona, and the minute I step into my room, I start coughing all the way up from my toes. It's a miracle and a blessing that I haven't awakened the bipolar bears.

I want my mommy. I want to be well again. I'm trying to be patient with the process, and I mostly am, but just not at this particular moment, when the alarm is set for less than two hours away. I want to lie down and sleep this off, and I want to be perfectly productive at work later today, and oh how I wish I could feel Beloved's back snuggled against me as I sleep.

Speaking of which, I just got hit with a gentle wave of drowsiness. Wish me luck.

OK, who's been praying?

(Thank you.) I had a phenomenal day today, notwithstanding a low-grade fever. I worked four hours of OT last Saturday, and I'll probably work another three or four tomorrow night, but absolutely not tonight. I've been coughing a lot more today, plus a couple of rather impressive sneezing fits, and I've used my inhaler once or twice. I'm tired, barely feverish, and significantly encouraged/relieved. I just finished the three tablespoons of Hatch chili mac & cheese that were leftover from breakfast. Body said not one bite more, so I grabbed a small container and stowed it in the fridge. That stuff is too good to waste even a single noodle.

In a few minutes I'm heading for my room to watch more WandaVision and maybe some Mandalorian. Unless I catch my second wind, I'll probably crash right after taking my evening meds.

 I saw a meme today featuring one Mandalorian, facing forward, another in profile standing next to him, and Grogu in front of both. Caption? "Two and a half Mandos." I laughed so hard that I coughed.

I wish I could wave my hands like Wanda and deposit a hot tub in the back yard. I know where my swimsuit is. I would love to poach for about half an hour and follow that with a massage and about ten hours of sleep.

Please take very good care of yourselves.

No fever this morning!

So I called in to say that I'd be driving in after getting the nail out of Diana's left rear tire. I also had them change the oil while we were there. There was still quite a bit of traffic, even though it was well past rush hour. I did stop at La Madeleine to pick up a quiche Florentine and a cup of Strawberries Romanoff, in celebration that I would soon be connected to the bigger, faster server and at least theoretically able to be more productive.

Well, kids, I kinda overdid it. I realized after walking up the eight steps from the parking level to the elevators that I had left my shiny new inhaler at home. Talk about winded! It got better once I'd logged in and eaten a few bites of the quiche, but I never felt 100%, and my neck was all tense from the drive in (that never used to happen; I love to drive), and I even got a little dozy two or three times.

I took my temperature a few minutes ago, and it was 99.8, which would be nearly 101 for normal folks like you. So it's a good thing that I followed the hunch (or maybe spiritual prompting) to bring everything right back home in case I had a fever tomorrow. Fever or no fever when I wake, I'll be working from home, because the rule is that I have to be fever-free for 24 hours without the use of medicine. And tonight blows that out of the water.

On the other hand, my ankles are looking better. I finish that medicine tomorrow.

And I stocked up at Trader Joe's on the way home from work. I have almost no appetite, but the goodies will be there when I'm ready for them. I'm feeling a little meh but mostly just tired and listless. I did enjoy watching two episodes of WandaVision, however.

I'm going to fire up the shiatsu massager and see if that helps. Night, y'all.

The cough persists.

As does the low-grade fever. The cellulitis appears to be on the wane. Which is a good thing, because sulfa pills have a loathsome aftertaste, rather like what I imagine the bottom of a birdcage to be. The doctor prescribed a week's worth, but the pharmacy gave me ten days' worth, and you best believe that I am taking every one of those nasty bozos.

Have I mentioned that I've succumbed to the charm which is "Wordle?" Today's nearly had me stumped. I generally manage to solve them in four or five clues, but there were two last week that required all six and netted me a "phew" in response. I don't know if that means the laser guns nearly got me (pew! pew!) or if it is an alternate spelling of "whew" that is, quite obviously, wrong.

I watched Avengers: Infinity War last night-into-this-morning. Spoiler alert for anyone who, like me, had not seen it: I knew a lot of Avengers were going to die. I did not expect so many, or which ones. I'll watch Avengers: Endgame after church today.

Which is my clue to wind this up, figure out what I want for breakfast, and ready my nest (including an ice pack for my lower shins), because Zoom church begins in 19 minutes.

Good Sabbath, and remember who and Whose you are.

Quick post before work.

The bronchitis seems to be gone. I didn't need my inhaler yesterday. The infection in my legs is visibly less angry, and the swelling is down. I'm about halfway through the sulfa drug that was prescribed on Sunday afternoon.

Yesterday was the best, most productive day of work I've had in weeks, and I am so thankful. I had a very slight fever when I took my temperature this morning, so I will work from home and hope for more of the same.

In the Marvel Cinematic Universe, I am caught up through Dr. Strange.  Which was an entertaining and visually confusing movie. When speaking to Middlest and Fourthborn this morning, I likened it to a snow globe designed by M.C. Escher. I had to close my eyes briefly, several times, just to keep my head clear. So tonight will be Thor: Ragnarok, and I am very much looking forward to it.

I have not knitted for something like a month and a half. I cannot tell you why, exactly: frustration with the multiply-frogged most recent project (cowl? shawlette?) might be the culprit. I look at the neatly wound cakes of yarn, and part of my mind goes "oh yes, please," while another part goes "but not now."

I need to go find two clean compression socks and symbolically gird my loins for the day ahead. I've had a tall mug of chicken broth and am nearly to the bottom of a mug of hot chocolate. Middlest is going to slice a bagel for me in a few minutes. I am all sloshy and need to send down something solid to sustain the warmth and provide some protein for the adulting which lies before me.

Wish me luck.

Sister Ravelled, Sister Ravelled, dormez-vous? dormez-vous?

There was a whole lot of sleeping last week. There was very little working, and I am wildly behind again. I'm hoping to be able to drive into work tomorrow, and I will need to get one of Diana's tires patched in the very near future.

There has been another health complication. I'm not sure if it's a reaction to the antibiotic, but I'm having a recurrence of the cellulitis in my lower legs. I went to church in person today and got a priesthood blessing after sacrament meeting, then drove up to the after-hours clinic to get checked by the doctor on duty. At one point he put one wonderfully cool hand on a hot-spot (testing for fever) and said, "I bet that feels good right now." It did. I wish I could have cloned his hands and brought the clones home in lieu of an icebag or a bag of frozen peas. (I cooked up the last of the peas a couple of days ago, alas.)

So now I have an Rx for sulfa, and I'll take it midway between my doses of antibiotic. By the way, in case you didn't know or have forgotten, sulfa tastes n*a*s*t*y. I chased it with a short glass of orange juice and half a Costco double chocolate muffin.

I finished watching Ant-Man and am about to start watching Captain America: Civil War.

Later, gators.

Two Forward, One Back

Today has been weird. I have a lot of weird days, even before the pandemic, but this one just kinda glows in the dark. Woke up with a low-grade fever, which meant no going into the office, which meant slower internet speed here at home and a potentially much less productive workday.

Last night's poaching-of-the-sinuses-in-the-shower caused me to show up at the pharmacy shortly after it had closed for the day. At first I was irritated at the change of hours, but I told myself I was not going to be a "Karen" [noun, pejorative] and started coming up with, and enunciating, reasons why it was good that the pharmacy was closing earlier than I was used to. One attitude, brought to heel and sent marching in the proper direction.

So this morning I logged on as usual and emailed my office manager that I would be nipping out at 10:00 (when the pharmacy opened) to pick up my prescriptions. There were five or six cars ahead of me when I arrived, so I worked a jigsaw puzzle on my phone until it was my turn. [Note to self: email Sister to thank her again for introducing me to that app.]

As I remarked on Facebook, you know you're looking a bit rough when the pharmacy tech tells you to go home and bundle up. I thanked him and told him I'm glad that he and the others get to go home to their families a little earlier now, and that they've been working very hard for a very long time. (After finishing Thor and watching Avengers and getting a respectable if not ideal amount of sleep, I had internalized my course correction, so I was not the Pharisee praying on the street corner to be seen by men. More like Loki after Hulk whomped him about and walked off muttering "puny god.")

I came home by way of Whataburger, because nothing says love like greasy potatoes, and because the sausage in their breakfast-on-a-bun is just spicy enough to help clear my head. For my drink, I got a small Dr. Pepper milkshake. Yes, we all know that I don't like Dr. Pepper, no matter how long I've lived in Texas. It is a truth universally acknowledged (thank you, Jane) that a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds (thank you, Oscar).

For me, the ice cream overcomes the cloying sweetness which is Dr. Pepper. Remember, also, that the reverse is true: I love peanut butter. I adore chocolate, the darker the better. And I cannot abide Reese's cups, pieces, et al. While Nutella is another word for manna. Don't ask me. I just live here.

Where was I?

Pulled into the driveway. Parked Diana and turned off the engine. Fell asleep, but only for a brief moment. Wrangled everything into the house (dropping my breakfast sandwich, but not my shake, onto the welcome mat as I wrestled with the lock), emailed my office manager that I was wiped out, ate my sandwich, and went back to bed. The lamp by my bed is momentarily stuck in the on position, and I was not in the mood to shift the mattress and unplug it, so I just threw the covers over my head and slept almost until quitting time.

I've had one dose of rescue inhaler, and it's time for another. I've read the literature for both prescriptions, and I'll need to be extremely careful. The rescue inhaler can mess with my glucose levels, and people over 65 might have unspecified problems. I won't take the maintenance tablet until I've discussed it with my doctor, because it can seriously play hob with one's mental health, and I really don't want to add suicidal ideation to my current list of challenges.

But right now I'll take breathing for $500, Alex.

Jane Austen, the MCU, and me

I'm part of a Jane Austen reading group on Facebook. There is lively discussion on all manner of topics related to her works. In a discussion on Persuasion last year praising the late Lady Elliot and contrasting her choices with those of Mr Bennett in Pride and Prejudice, I felt prompted to comment:

(Me): Having been the (relatively) sensible one in my second marriage, may I suggest that it was exhaustion which carried Lady Elliot off?

(Another reader's reply): It could very well be... having to constantly humor a vain and foolish man, while managing a household and bringing up the children single-handedly, cannot be easy.

Word.

Last year I invested in several of the annotated versions of her novels. They are substantial books, both in content and in thickness, suitable for clocking the ignoramii at a distance of five feet or less.

Which leads me to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I have been watching British TV on Prime / BritBox / Acorn for much of the past year and a half, which has severely cut into my reading time, but which has enabled me to remain relatively civil under trying circumstances. Recently I added Disney + to the mix, because I wanted to watch Encanto and then Loki. I've downloaded a list of the Avengers movies in chronological order and have made it through the first three. However, Hulk's movie is not available for download. So I am about ten minutes into the beginning of Thor, which I saw in the theatre with Secondborn, and which is when I began to be interested, if vaguely, in the MCU. I've also watched all of the Marvel short films that are tangential to the story arcs. My favorite is the one where Agent Coulson accidentally stumbles into an armed robbery on his way to inspect the site where Thor crash-landed.

Tae-Bo for the win.

In health news, the amoxycillin continues to work its magic. Yesterday I logged on as usual, then logged off a little after 11:00 and slept until 5:00pm. Today, so far, I've been awake and at least marginally productive since log-in at the usual time. And, if my symptoms continue to clear, I might be able to return to the office tomorrow, which would help my productivity immensely.

The prescriptions for my maintenance and emergency inhalers are ready for me to pick up. But first, a nice poaching of my sinuses in the shower. I'm tired, because I managed to work a full day. And I want to curl up in bed with Thor and maybe even the first Avengers movie, which is where I stopped watching the movies as they were released.

I would really, really like about six bites of medium rare filet mignon. I think that's an indication that I'm on the mend. I would also like to dive face-first into a baked sweet potato with butter and spices but no additional sweetener.

Time to take care of business: i.e., me, since I've spent the day taking care of business at work. Thankfully, my friend S. jumped in and got me partially caught up today. That is why I am merely very tired but not anxious or knackered.