A day out of sorts

 

This morning was gray and dull, the kind of morning that makes you feel gray and dull, so I attributed my out-of-sorts feeling to the weather. When the sun would briefly come out, I’d think, “Okay, now I can talk myself into a better mood.” But the truth is, I was just off. After toast for breakfast and cottage cheese with vegetables in it for lunch, I decided bed was the best place for me.

And—a huge step, so unlike me—I called Jean and told her not to come for supper. I was going to make the ravioli with brown butter and sage that I’ve been talking about, but I decided I didn’t want to do experimental cooking when I wasn’t enthusiastic about eating.

Taking a day out reminds me of my mother. When I was young, she had severe migraines, and she would spend a day in bed. But she was always okay the next day. So I early learned when someone asked about her to say, “Oh, she’ll be all right tomorrow.” That’s sort of how I feel—I’ll be all right tomorrow.

After a two-hour nap, I felt better but decided I was going to take the rest of the day off. I would go back to bed whenever I wanted, look at my computer occasionally, and read. Mostly what I accomplished was the back-to-bed part, though Sophie had a fit once when I did that. Kept throwing herself at the bed and barking so hard, she made herself sick and spit up right by the bed where I could step on it when I got up. Thank you, Sophie. I fed a very subdued dog and crawled back in bed.

Twice now she’s gone out and stayed, which worries me because it’s so cold. Supposed to go to 22 tonight and feel like 10 in the morning because of winds. I think that’s part of my malaise—I absolutely hate to be cold. When I got up a few minutes ago, she antsed around like she wanted to go to, and I fixed her with a stern, “Absolutely not.” She is sleeping by my desk now, and I hope to sneak back to bed without disturbing her.

I did write my thousand words for the day, though I’m nervous about re-reading them. They may be pure junk—or they may need bolstering. And I fixed myself scrambled eggs for supper. And now, oh luxury, I’m sitting with my feet in the foot massager I got for Christmas.

Tomorrow is another day, and I’ll be fine. You all take care, stay safe and warm. It’s going to be nasty for a few days.