Feverish

Being sick royally sucks.  And yes, this is a highly original thought.  Aside from the piles of balled up kleenexes like leftover snow forming barriers around the couch and one overworked tea kettle, I must admit that catching a nasty cold does have one perk: it's forcing me to finally slow down.

For the past however many months since I've started working, I've barely stopped to breathe.  Or when I have, it's only for a brief moment that doesn't stick around long enough to mean anything.  It's as if this cold snuck in just in time to remind myself of that whole concept of balance and how vitally important it really is to our health (and sanity).

So all weekend I have been lounging at home, watching movies, reading, laying in bed in the middle of the afternoon - things I haven't done on the weekend in I don't even know how long.  The fuziness of my mind prohibits me from thinking too hard about anything (it's a lost cause, I swear) and instead I settle in that middle ground where reality and dreams come to meet.  And it feels so good to just be.  To let it all go.  I day dream all afternoon and wonder about things, reliving old memories just to be with those people I'm not lucky enough to have in DC right now.

The piles of kleenexes grow taller and the sky outside fades into black.  The sniffling may not subside for a while, and I hope the wandering mind doesn't either.  For now I lay in the dark amidst flickering candles, watching lightening forge paths across the sky.  Not your typical Sunday Funday, but I'll take it.