I’d been nursing a cold since Tuesday. Mostly just a scratchy throat and stuffed nose. It didn’t hit me hard till Friday night.
I lay on the couch my head throbbing. Light and sound intensified the pain. My body ached and exhaustion descended on me like deadening fog.
And in those moments before I fell asleep, I knew for certain that I was not my body. That my body functioned independently of me. The me being my soul or spirit or energy, or whatever. I could feel the separation as I lay there. My hurting body and me outside of it.
I feel into one of those deep healing sleeps and when Jon woke me up an hour or so later, I felt better. I still had a cold, but the pain was gone and I knew that the best thing I could do was to rest.
Which is how I spent my Saturday. Sleeping and reading and drinking tea and soup that Jon gave me. I finished reading The Music Shop by Rachel Joyce.
It’s the perfect book for a quiet weekend. A gentle love story of friends and community centered around an emotionally damaged man who can hear what music people need.
The Music Shop was a delightful place to spend my day.
Today I’m feeling even better. I’m still invested in rest and it’s a good day for it. The world outside the house is covered in ice. If the temperature does go above freezing as it’s supposed to, and the driveways thaws, we’ll head over to Bennington later this afternoon to see The Shape of Water.
If not, we’ll just have to stay home, with the fires going in the woodstoves and the fish tank humming. I’ll start Zadie Smith’s new book of essay’s Feel Free and make some of my cardboard postcards.
I intend to be even better by tomorrow and back to work.