sniffles and coughs

Now Playing: an "Adventures in Odyssey" CD. I'm not actually playing it, but I can hear it from the study because Daisy is playing it on the other side of the wall in the kitchen. She's baking cookies.

It has been brought to my attention (by Brother1, who teased me about it yesterday, and miss SwanElf, who just posted a comment) that I haven't posted in awhile. Hmmm... wonder why... could it possibly have to do with the fact that I have caught *drumroll please* The Plague?

Ok, here's a brief rundown:

I'm home for Thanksgiving break! Woo hoo! It feels wonderful to be home. Or rather, it would feel wonderful, had not my body decided that, now that I'm not under stress, to crash and burn: I've caught the Plague.

On Saturday, I managed to haul myself through door-to-door evangelism in a city near my hometown. I was with a bunch of friends from church, which made it an event not to be missed, let alone the opportunity to share the Gospel. We walked down lovely, long, story-book streets lined with old, Victorian homes. The houses were like paper cutouts from the Mitford stories. Some of them were brick, palatial, with white Corinthian columns. Others were clapboard, painted maroon or green, with blue or crimson shutters, and broad porches that creaked underfoot. Most of the houses were fairly well-kept, but they were all slightly dishevelled--like your mother's recital or prom dress, the dress that has a hem falling out and lace unravelling around the throat. Stately elm and sycamore trees dropped drifts of copper and gold leaves onto the sidewalks. We rustled through them, like wading through brown tidepools.

Thanks to my dissipation on Saturday, Sabbath was a struggle. I dragged myself out of bed Sabbath morning and managed to dress. I wheezed through Sabbath school and the church service, but as soon as the service was over, I shuffled over to my father. I gazed up at him out of sad, puppy-dog eyes. "Do you want to go home?" he asked. I nodded, a tear sliding down my cheek. "Ok, just a minute, and I'll take you home," he said. I sat down in the back row of chairs in the sanctuary. I was so exhausted, and so angry with myself for giving in to weakness that I couldn't stop crying. Tears welled up of their own accord. Mrs. P came and sat beside me for awhile, sympathizing with my helpless state. She offered to take me home, but I was so afraid of making her sick, too, that I insisted my father do it. On the drive home, my father chatted gently. He's a quiet person, but when you're in pain or sick, he'll come and talk about simple little things, so soothingly that it makes you relax and believe that the world isn't so dreadful after all.

At home, I changed clothes and flopped into bed. The rest of the day was spent in bed. Sabbath evening, all of my family (except Brother2, who is also plagued with the Plague) went to a Bible study. Brother2 and I ate chicken noodle soup for supper. Then he lounged on the sofa with a bag of kettlecorn, while I pulled the cushions off the other sofa in the study, stacked them on the living room floor, and lay down on them. Sandy curled up at my feet. We watched the old BBC production of "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe". Despite the lame animals and animation, there's something comforting (don't laugh too loud, Violin and SwanElf) about those old movies.

On Monday, my mother coaxed me to the hospital to have lab work done (for a sickness completely unrelated to the Plague and not infectious). We sat in the waiting room for almost an hour before the phlegbotomist (Princess, you'll have to tell me if that's spelled right) called my name. I felt as miserable as an old rag doll. I slumped down into the phlegbotomist's blue chair and stared off over my right shoulder while she drew blood from my left arm. Now, I don't mind blood too much. The only difficulty is the hideous pulling sensation that you feel when someone is drawing blood. It seemed like forever before she was done. I sat and sang Psalm 84A to myself as loudly as I could, in my head.

Spent the rest of the day in bed--cough, sniffle, and all that. Drank quantities of tea and chicken soup. Listened to the "Chronicles of Narnia" series from Focus on the Family, watched "National Treasure" on my DVD player, and worked on Someone's birthday present.

Today I'm a little bit better. As I ate breakfast this morning, my father called with some very bad news. It doesn't directly touch my family (as in, none of my human-blood relations), but it touches my relatives by Christ's blood. I'll just say this: please pray hard for Princess, Marigold, and their family, especially their mother.

Well, if I go back to bed, maybe I'll be able to go to the orchestra concert at the university here tonight. It's all a matter of persuading my mother, who's fluttering over Brother2 and me as though we are two-day-old kittens. This is pleasant, for now--as long as I'm not desperately trying to go anywhere, which happens to be the case tonight.