It was noon, and I was a might peckish, so I asked her if she fancied soup and grilled cheese. I didn't expect her to say, "Yes," but I thought I'd to her the courtesy of inquiring. To the plebeian me, that particular lunch represents haute cuisine, but it is not her favourite. Cuppa would normally prefer of lighter noon meal: crackers and cheese, for example. As expected, she did reply in the negative because it sounded a bit heavy to her and because she wasn't really hungry anyway.
Like most normal people, Cuppa tends to lose her appetite when she's ill: not so much me though. Tempt me with any of my likees, and I will probably wag my metaphorical tail and commence to salivating in anticipation. You see, I am not normal, and my appetite often doesn't diminish significantly whilst experiencing a bugarious smiting. Of course, it does abate to some degree, I am still very tempted by such delicacies as grilled cheese and soup.
It was 3:00 AM, and after three hours of tossing and turning, I gave it up and got up. I was sick and needed sleep, but it wouldn't come. In this, too, I am not normal. It seems to me that most people sleep more, not less when they're ill — at least in my limited circle. Cuppa has been so poopdicated and out of it at times recently that she has pretty much spent several days in bed, almost unable to open her sore eyes.
Whereas most normal mortals sleep more, possibly much, much poor when they're ill, I tend to experience the reverse phenomenon and be more wakeful that usual — if that's humanly possible. Frankly, that rather peeves me because who wouldn't want to escape into sleep when they're feeling miserable, not to mention how repose might accelerate one's recuperative process. I mean to say that it's the most natural and normal thing to do. Whatever I am, however, I seem not to be entirely normal.
What I wonder about whilst awake is why in this year of all years the clan is suffering from the attack of the bugarious smiters so much. I mean to say that we're all being more careful than ever and washing our hands frequently and furiously like demented fools because we are told that it's the best form of prevention from the dreaded H1N1 virus. Perhaps, they're right; perhaps, it's true, for no one that I know has contracted it. Meanwhile, however,we have succumbed to every other virus that we've come within miles of.
My feeling is that even if hand washing is a good thing, and it certainly is, it nigh unto impossible to wash them frequently or thoroughly enough for it to do all that much good. If sickness surrounds us, it is pretty darn difficult to escape unscathed. At least, this is what I conclude from the clan's recent history. We lather up because it can't hurt and it might help, but I am beginning to doubt that it helps a whole lot.