Thursday, January 28, 2021
The other day in Virtual Book Club someone posted a book they’d enjoyed about end-of-life decisions, and what matters in the end. Being Mortal by Atul Gawande. She was really moved by this book and gave it 5 stars. I’m always interested why people love a book. Another reader said the book asks you to decide what ‘your line’ is, regarding quality of life. One man reported so long as he can watch football and eat chocolate ice cream, he doesn’t care what else happened. And that really got me thinking about my line.
This resulted in Christopher and I sitting in bed this morning counting blessings.
“This is the most boring, uneventful, uninspiring year I’ve ever had,” he said. But ironically, it wasn’t a complaint.
What we’ve learned is how we live on so little. And being happy with cheap and/or free things. He called yesterday and asked what I wanted for dinner. I replied a request for chicken gyros and told him to surf the internet for recipes.
Don’t be shy with the tzaziki! I texted.
And when I got home that chicken was marinating. Dinner was delicious. And then we read as a family. And then we watched Aston Villa / Newcastle. And if I had billions in the bank, I would’ve wanted that very same evening. And that makes me happy.
Speaking of millions, a bunch of Redditors banded together to put some meanie hedge funders out of business. I don’t understand all the logistics but basically it’s more greedy bad guys getting comeuppance.
Mostly I’m wondering if this means Game Stop will lower their prices now. Harvey loves that store.
Sunday, January 31, 2021
Let me tell you the worst feeling in the world: Laying in bed in the wee hours with a stomach ache, wondering if you’re gonna puke. That was me at 3 this morning.
I thought if I lay there long enough it would go away. But complicating matters was I had to pee. But I knew it was risky. Move too much and that pukey feeling gets worse. So I got up and peed. Sure enough, a cold sweat came over my body. My stomach clenched. I breathed it down and walked back to bed at a 45° angle.
I lay back down and some indeterminable time later my stomach cramped so hard I knew another trip to the loo was inevitable. It clentched again and I felt a pressure in my bowels which suggested —
SHIT, I thought.
Was this food poisoning? Please God, no. I had food poisoning once, like 20 years ago when that deadly batch of strawberries hit Houston and lost time, space, and so much body fluid — anyway it was bad. And spewing like Roman Candles from both ends is literally the worst thing a body can endure.
I hobbled to the bathroom, pulled the trashcan in front of me and rest my cold, sweating head on the cool porcelain sink praying for it to be over soon. Well. One of my hemispheres released. The other thankfully allowed me to breathe deep (the gathering gloom). I flushed, washed my hands, and lay on the floor. How good a cool floor feels when you’re hot, sweaty and nauseous. My stomach cramped and I waited for round 2.
Another who knows how long later I hobbled back to bed, sweaty and weak, and fell into fitful, sweaty dreams about terrible people. It wasn’t food poisoning so I guess it was a bug. I feel a lot better but still weak and puny.
Christopher just made the most amazing bacon-wrapped meatloaf and mash taters. I wolfed it down with gusto so that’s a sure sign of mending. ❤︎ Anyway. January went FAST. Bookended with explosions.
— I’ll see myself out.
You’re reading select entries from SHELF LIFE: My Pandemic Diary.