My neighbors think I'm some kind of strange voyeur - I'm sure of it at this point. If this were a small town, I could almost hear them talking about me:
"There's that weird lady who used to walk her dog every day and sometimes sing or laugh out loud. I wonder why she stopped? Why does she stand and watch out the window instead?"
Well, how does one explain to neighbors one has never met that she's not spying on them?
Just now, I let Jack outside after he came and whimpered to me at my computer (as he so often does these days). His face is so sad. "Mommy, are we ever going to walk outside again?"
So I stood at the back glass door and watched the activity several houses down our block. I've never met them either (much less the ones right next door), but this particular group is fascinating.
There are small and middle-sized children in this family, and they have some sort of (artificial, I'm guessing) ice-skating rink in their back yard that provides frequent activity. This particular morning, an adult, all bundled up, appears to be raking leaves in that same back yard, while several children skate and a large gray dog meanders around.
I just had to jump up and bring Jack inside, because he was barking - probably wanting to join them. I want to join them too, but I'm under "house arrest" today - Stu's rules - and he's right. My Weather Channel link on my desktop computer indicates it's between 29 and 31 degrees out there, and it feels like between 20 and 24 degrees. One can only assume that's wind related. Avon Park FL shows 70, but I'm not there.
It doesn't do any good to be angry about a virus that hangs on relentlessly for more than 18 days in some form or fashion. I must choose instead to be grateful for at least two weeks of temporary work in an office, and the dear friend that's responsible for that, starting tomorrow.
But I want to be outside playing today! I don't care how cold it is! I promise I'll bundle up! The sun and blue sky are so pretty and there are other living creatures out there!
It's really hard to be middle-aged and know that the very act of throwing a tantrum is liable to cause yet another relapse. It really is.
When I get the flu you can take one digit off my age... doesn't really matter which one. I go in my room, get under all the covers and bake like a potato in the oven. At some point I crawl out, get a shower, and resume life one step at a time.
ReplyDeleteStu is looking after you... I can tell he really cares and loves you very much. When I saw you last night you looked much better... so hopefully by now you are back to your cheery self.