I guess you know that no one can really enforce rest on an able-bodied adult except that adult herself. And I must confess that resting is one of my weak points at mid-life. It’s especially not easy to do six days before Christmas. Today, other than going to the doctor’s office and the pharmacy, I have remained at home, and I am now on antibiotics, pushing fluids and "resting." I am actually lying down. I finished reading a book, and now I’m reading blogs at a leisurely pace.
This means I am not:
Doing the dishes
Doing the laundry
Doing anything else for work (finished all that this morning, or all I can do from here, anyway)
Doing the Christmas cards (really need to sit up for that)
Wrapping presents (all that stuff is upstairs)
Cooking anything (We’ll order out tonight)
Getting up to let dogs or cats in or out of the house
I hope this means that soon I will:
Thank you for all the throat advice. I am not a big fan of honey but put some in my tea this morning. (Note to self: no honey on an empty stomach.) Toddy fans, I’m hoping it won’t come to that, since I would have to send my non-drinking husband to the store to find the proper ingredient. Of course my legally of age son will be home tomorrow night, so I can ask him if thing don’t improve in the meantime.
I’m lying on the couch and enjoying the tree. If I only had a copy of the second book in Pullman’s "His Dark Materials" trilogy, I would be completely happy. I do have Marcus Borg on "The First Christmas," but that feels too serious for a sick day. Maybe tomorrow.
I think I’m doing a pretty good job of enforcing rest this afternoon.