Fuzzy World of Sick

Being sick has its own strange rewards. It removes you from the structure of life. You have permission to "be excused" even if it is only your own nod of assent.

I feel peaceable. Not just peaceful, but as if I am an emissary of peace; I bring it with me like a big hat. I'd probably cry if someone challenged my peace, but it's big and very present nonetheless.

I have slowed down. I need to be slow--something that usually drives me crazy--in all things. Walking, thinking. Typing. What was I saying? Yeah, thinking.

I wish I could say that it makes me sharper in other unexpected things, but instead it makes me feel fuzzy; in the head, in my ears, in my preferred clothing choices, in my wit. I giggle at silly things. Which makes me cough.  Often uncontrollably.

I know I'll get better soon. But for now, I'll try to enjoy the fluffy, peace-spouting effects along with the aches and fatigue. I'm off for a nap.