My daughter called last night.
"Hello?" I said. Croaked.
"You're still sick?" she said, alarmed.
It has lasted and lasted, the sick. I think now I'm definitely better. Except that "better" still requires some ibuprofen. On a regular basis.
We had a two-birthday dinner to celebrate tonight. (Happy Birthday to I. and S.! and while I'm at it--happy birthday to all my December and January birthday kids!)
Actually, it was pretty easy, as two-birthday dinners go. One pasta dish, one green salad, a couple of vegetables, store-bought (but excellent) bread. Pineapples, cut up. And cake. Still, that croaky voice put the whole celebratory gig in doubt.
"No, I'm fine," I reassured.
I wish it hadn't been such a long day on Friday. I wish I hadn't left my purse at this one store on Saturday, which added another half hour to my appointed rounds. I wish there were about three more grace days before school starts. I wish I were about an hour deep into a very restful sleep right now.
But it starts tomorrow.
(Luckily, at least one of my syllabi is finished.)