~ my walk Tuesday evening
in the swathed oat field~

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Friday 30 Sept 2005
9:30 a.m.

For a day and a half I have not had the energy to do a damn thing. I caught Emil’s cold sometime Wednesday, and by suppertime was ready for bed. It’s been two long, fever-filled nights of half-delirium, and this morning the sinus-cold symptoms are pretty much gone. It’s moved down into my throat and chest.

I have managed to finish a job left undone on the kitchen counter Wednesday, by adding more of my neighbour’s homemade butter to the mixture of grapeseed and olive oils in the blender, and getting that concoction put into pretty glass bowls with plastic lids and stored safely away in the fridge. I’ve had the energy to wipe the counter to clean up the mess, and to eat some toast, and to run myself part of a bath with three drops of eucalyptus oil and three drops of rose oil added.

But I’m so out of breath I thought I’d sit here for a few minutes before adding more water to get it to the temperature that enables me to climb into the tub. This is a bath I need, according to Scott, the ever tactful one. I have been sweating for two nights; this will do me good. Although I may well have to go back to bed when it’s done, as baths usually suck me out more than invigorate me.

I don’t want to go back to bed! I wasn’t able to work yesterday, so will have to put four hours in over the weekend to make up for the loss. And I mean to put in four hours today. But it’s early yet, only 9:30; maybe I can manage it.

Yesterday I wanted to get some vitamin-D-manufacturing sunlight on my skin, so went outside in the early afternoon, wearing Mom’s very heavy, very warm housecoat. I stood, leaning against the house for a while; then sat; then walked around the house and deadheaded my flowers; and finally stretched out on the swing and laid there about 15 minutes, listening to the wind and watching it blow through the trees, the top halves of which were bare against a very blue sky.

People sometimes think about what they would do if told they had a very short time to live. I have always said I'd want to be outside as much as possible, and to have my sickbed near an open window where I could not only see out but smell the fresh air. This desire was only reinforced as I lay on the swing. If I’d brought a warm blanket to cover myself with, I might have stayed out there all day.

Instead, before I got cold, I made my way indoors and spent the afternoon on one of the couches.

All right, now I know for sure I am still fevered. I just had to shuck my nightie in order to sit here and finish this entry. But fever is good, right? It means the body is fighting the virus with everything it has; it means my immune system is doing its job.

This may sound strange, but being able to sit at my desk naked is a rare treat. I'm not often warm enough to find nudity possible, let alone pleasant, unless I'm in a steamy bathroom or under the bedclothes. Even in the second instance, I often have to get up and put something on to cover my back and shoulders, or I won't be able to sleep.

Wouldn't it be nice to have the body thermostat that men seem to have?

Anyway, I'd better get my fevered brain out of here before I say something stupid. With luck, by this afternoon I'll have a bit of oomph again and be able to apply myself to my work.

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