Yes, today I am worse off than I was yesterday. I think I have a fever, but I'm not sure. I wasn't sure where the thermometer was, and if I did it's low grade - nothing to really worry about, in other words. I couldn't seem to get warm, so I bundled up in a thermal zippered hoodie I have, put the hood up and went back to bed. I watched Stephen King's "The Shining", and dozed off and on all morning.
In the early afternoon I talked to Wife on the phone. She reminded me that Handsome was at his first day back to school after the Christmas break, and he would be bringing home the information about a Social Studies project. He was supposed to have been working on this project all vacation, but that he had forgotten to bring it home. I had told him I'd be there to help him with it, as now he would have only 2 days to complete it.
I had to get my nasty, stinking butt out of bed and take a shower so I could go over there.
I turned on the shower and stepped under the spray, wincing as the water hit my skin. Apparently I do have a low-grade fever, and it was making my skin rather sensitive. Normally when I take a shower I shave my face and head, leaving myself looking rather like the Walmart Rollback Guy, but with a goatee. I felt the gently falling water battering my back like a room full of jackhammers and looked at the razor. I thought about dragging that blade across my skin, cutting and ripping at the stubble I felt there, but that's as far as I got. I washed, gently, toweled myself off, gently, and got dressed.
I put on some warm yet soft clothes and capped it all with that hoodie I'd worn all day. I tottered off to the car and made my way to the House. I went in and sat at the table where Handsome was already hard at work on his project. As I was setting up my laptop at the end of the table, right here where I am sitting to blog, I had a bit of a coughing fit. I hacked up some stuff that looked vaguely organic, as well as some stuff that looked like it was supposed to look organic, but wasn't quite making it.
The coughing made my head pulse with pain, and that made my eyes water as I coughed and coughed. I finally looked up, eyes streaming, to see Handsome, the boy I had left my sick-bed to see, regarding me.
As always, he knew just what to say to make me feel 1,000 percent better.
"You're a mess, Dad."
"Wow," I said. "You say the sweetest things."
"Seriously." He shook his head. "With the stubbly face and head, especially the head, and that cough, and your eyes are all red -- you look like a beginner hobo!"
How could I not love a boy as compassionate as this?
There's just no way.
Talk to you later!