Being sick

  I suppose it was a chest cold: cough, fever, headache. I was vaccinated. If it was the flu, it was a sneaky one.

But there’s this: the pleasure of staying indoors, not working, shirking chores guiltlessly.

If it was going to happen, the timing was good: all those Thanksgiving leftovers that could be heated up and eaten in bed.

The memories of being sick as a child: the lovely feeling of being left alone, not having to go to school, not having to do anything.

And, when the bug runs its course, the pleasure of that first day back: when you’re well enough to get up, sweep out the fireplace, bring in a load of wood, build a fire, fill the bird feeders. No hard work yet, but you can feel your strength coming back.

Now that the cough’s almost gone, it almost seems like it was worth it.