I went home early from work on Friday. On Saturday I caved in and went to the doctor. As always, nothing wrong with me aside from, you know, being sick, although my blood pressure was a little high. "It always is when I'm sick," I told the doctor, refusing to come back to have my blood pressure taken again next week. I don't have a car, and I work 10 miles away, I can't just drop by at the drop of a hat. Besides, it's not high, just higher than last time. Pshaw.
"And what color is your sputum?" she asked, hearing me cough like a hyena.
I gave her an incredulous look. "I don't look at it, ew," I said with distaste. She laughed at me. How disgusting. Bad enough I have to monitor the excrescences of my pets to make sure they're healthy. I am not looking to see what color anything is unless I'm unable to avoid it. I'm sick, it's a virus so they can't prescribe anything other than liquids and rest, here's my co-payment, goodbye.
Afterwards, I took advantage of my early morning energy level to drop by Woolworth's Nursery and pick up a couple of containers, some potting soil, and a box of transplanting fertilizer in preparation for lifting out the iris, the wallflowers, and the dicentra. By the time I got home I was feeling an edge of weariness, so I didn't do anything the rest of the day. And you know what? It was really hard doing nothing. Even knowing it was the only way to get better I mourned the loss of a beautiful Saturday with so many garden chores needing to be done.
Instead, I napped for three hours. I finished reading Georgina, Duchess of Devonshire which is an excellent biography encompassing a particularly complicated set of 18th century English aristocrats and Whig political history. I stayed home, most reluctantly, from the Roman dinner I had been looking forward to attending for two months. Instead of dining lavishly on Chicken Fronto and pears in wine and cinnamon sauce, I had a baked potato. I talked to Michael on the phone for a while, thanking him for loaning me the comic Concrete which I'm enjoying very much. I fell asleep at 10pm, and got up this morning at 7am. I've been drinking liquids.
We must drive to our realtor's office and sign more papers today. Lord, the paperwork. But it's all going forward beautifully. The sellers have been really helpful despite our nominal "as is" agreement. They had a plumber come out and strap down the water heater; since it hadn't been done previously, despite their disclosure saying it was, they made good on it. That saved us a couple hundred right there. Then they agreed to fix a couple more things that will also save us some money, for which I credit our realtor who knew enough to ask them if they would as a goodwill gesture. It worked. My goodwill is palpable.
And I suppose after we sign the paperwork I'll come back here and sit around again. It's going to be another beautiful day in Palo Alto. I will rally enough energy to transplant my violets at least, and get the ixia into a container since they're sprouting. The rest of it can wait. Spring is fully sprung, and all our bad weather is over. Time to admire the dark red leaves of the plum trees, still dotted here and there with their dark pink blossoms. Time to photograph the constantly changing floral display in the garden, and marvel at how fast the dicentra is coming on, and cut the last of the big yellow daffodils to make way for the next batch of bulbs. Time to look closely at the freesia and guess what color each plump cluster of buds will turn.
Time to relax.
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