Angel Food (lowfat)

I have a blog post around here somewhere. Somewhere, in the midst of crumpled tissues, discarded thermometer covers, and (finally!) a couple different prescriptions, there is a magazine renewal card nearby with a scribbled blog entry on it. I just have no idea where I put it. I wrote the entry in the wee hours of Saturday night when I was awake with fever, coughing up a lung, and hurting from the goo in my sinuses.

I don’t remember exactly what my notes were, so this is what you’re getting - random musings about the weekend.

I left my house in a tizzy on Saturday morning when the weather man said that a tornado was heading toward my neighborhood. (Disclaimer: you’re supposed to go hide in a basement when there’s a tornado coming, not jump in your car to drive away from it.) I drove to my mom’s house because my dad was out of town, and she was alone and scared. Also, I was sick, and Mom promised to take care of me. She made me soup and encouraged me to nap. Even the family cat let me steal a few cuddles. It was a good day, fever and hacking and pain be darned.

On Sunday, rare snow flurries (a once in a decade occurrence where I live) cheered me for a little while, but the warm fuzzies of being taken care of were starting to wear off. Somehow, in the midst of a perfectly normal conversation with my parents, I began mumbling words I didn’t even understand. Then, I burst into tears (the ugly, sobby kind) and begged my mom to take me to the doctor.

She sweetly did and only abandoned the waiting room twice to escape the 2 year old kid who kept screaming and punching his parents. Every one in the waiting room seemed to have some version of what I have. We were a sad, sniveling lot, indeed. I’m sure the fine folks who invented the Z-pak are making a fortune this week. Thank God for them!

Postscript: The upside of having no appetite - I’m at my lowest weight in about a year and my size 12 jeans are falling off of me. Yippee!