Well, because I’m sick. Have been sick. For going on 10 days now. It came from the kids, no doubt. Started as the sniffles and then turned into fever and chills halfway through watching The Hobbit. That was about 10 days ago. The fever and chills went away pretty quickly but then the cough started. And continued. And lingered. It drove me to distraction and made me less than my usual cheerful self. Indeed, I was coughing so violently at times that I pulled a groin muscle and damaged my ribs.
We got home from our vacation yesterday. After nearly five hours of driving, we arrived in the door at about 2pm. Ten minutes later I headed out that door and made for the urgent care. I sat in the waiting room for nearly 3 hours waiting to see a doctor. When I finally did, he was quick to diagnose the problem: acute bronchitis.
(“If this is cute bronchitis, I’d hate to see what the ugly one feels like.” Come on. I’m a writer. I can’t help these things.)
He gave me two pairs of prescriptions, which I got filled and in theory, the healing is already beginning. Kelly and I took today off work so that we had a day to put the house back in order after being away for three weeks. But we sent the kids to school and day care, and so they aren’t here. That makes it feel like a work day. But I’m sick and I’m not at work, which makes it feel like a sick day. In fact, it is my last vacation day and I return to the office tomorrow.
I’m doing my best to be useful. I’ve done a few chores around the house. I’m beginning some research on a new story. And I’ve written half of a new nonfiction piece which should see the light of day later this month. When I am in front of the keyboard, writing, I don’t feel sick, I guess. I feel good. Maybe that helps explain why I blog so much.
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