It’s seven on a Friday night, possibly the latest I’ve ever waited to come here. The reason: I’m sick. Just a cold with a bad cough, chills, body aches. But it’s the third time in nine weeks and this is the worst. I spent two hours at the clinic late this afternoon.
I fought it all day, not accomplishing much. Now I’ve taken an antibiotic and I intend to give in to it–lying on the sofa and binge watching The Honourable Woman, not even trying to accomplish anything.
I asked myself if I had any truth about illness (thinking, please let me have one;my mind’s not good for much at the moment) and what came immediately to mind was this: it’s one of the times I’d rather not be by myself.