Drop Ship

Dear J-

I spent the day indoors wrestling alternately with a recalcitrant computer and (when she was awake) a sick figgy. The computer at least you can reboot and hope for things to work better, while the baby is a lot less receptive to similar treatment, though she does readily accept the Children’s Tylenol when offered. Clearly medicine has gotten much better tasting in the past thirty years or so, though I was always partial to those orange-flavored chewable aspirin. Life is pretty slow around here when she’s sick and we shift gears to suit.

If I think about it in terms of that at least she’s getting it out of the way before the big trip, that’s a good thing, but if we’re lagging her illnesses by a few days, that means we’re going to be well-impaired by the time we set out. Or perhaps we’ll have a few days grace period, as we incubate and pass the mutating virus between us; if life is like a petri dish, we are the culture that always develops a reaction — one of us has something remarkable.

She had a brief moment of lucidity this afternoon, rising from her pallet (we had literally laid out a few towels and a pillow in the front room and she spent most of the waking hours on it) and so I had a vision of her, vertical and awake beyond the confines of her misery. It’s tough to see her like this knowing how excited she usually is for various activities — wanting only to sleep is a sure sign of how low she feels. This too shall pass; hard to believe that we are back to work again tomorrow.



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