Sickness

I woke up this morning at four, my usual time, feeling more run-down than usual. The météo calls for rain all this week; I glanced at the rather ominous lightening purple morning skies while transplanting bitter sneezeweed and wild asters I had taken from our walk a few days earlier into little pots. The sneezeweed appears to be taking transplanting better than the asters. When I left for work at a quarter til six the rain had yet to begin. I checked the plants in the greenhouse over my morning coffee; it began pouring shortly thereafter. I spent the morning listening to vaporwave I had snuck in and arranging Boston ferns. By the time I finished my morning coffee break at nine-thirty I was shivering and had the chills. I suspect my general fatigue with my work schedule has weakened my immune system already compromised by the hormonal fluctuations of my perimenopause. So I left.

A pipe burst in the kitchen during the repair of our sink and flooded both our kitchen and that of our downstairs neighbor; I spent considerable time mopping up the flood with my husband. He left for work after lunch and I was finally able to sleep somewhat, over watching a documentary about Creutzfeldt-Jakob Syndrome with my dog...I'm not sure how I will feel tomorrow. I'm writing this by candleight at my desk somewhat flushed; the rain has finally stopped and the house is silent for the time being. I thought about working more on my latest short story; the draft has sat untouched for several days on my computer screen. There are so many people anticipating reading it that I almost feel guilty having writer's block for the moment; it's my first short story in twenty years.