On May 1, I began to get sick - a very rare occasion for me. By Saturday, May 2 I was in bed and stayed there until Monday doing little else but coughing and nose blowing...at which time I moved to the couch in the library. I alternated between the couch and bed until Wednesday, when I dragged my germy self back to my office. Luckily for my dear work peeps, I have a door I can close. I was also very careful to disinfect anything I touched - I even remembered the door knobs. So far, no one else has gotten sick. That was almost a week ago, and I'm still not well - so I suppose I have to break down and see a doctor. But, what really disturbs me about the last two weeks is the slightly Macbeth-ish fog that seems to have settled itself on my simple, quiet life - like pervasive dust. For reasons I cannot quite figure out, the people around me who are usually in fine fettle and good form, seem a little gloomy. There is, for instance, something bothering our senior partner. A usually gregarious and affable fellow, he has been exhibiting what I can only describe as a "flat effect" for the last few weeks. And Shorty...she's upset and angry that I called her doctor and set up an appointment for the two of us to go in this afternoon and discuss memory problems. (Hers, not mine. Although sometimes I wonder...) Maybe it's just my cold, but in short, for the last two weeks or so, my life seems to have tilted a little off its axis. Torqued, as it were. Strangest of all - I have not wanted to read. I've tried. I pick up a book and stare at the page - but I make no progress. And, I have neglected this poor little blog space. (Not that it's much of a loss to cyberspace).
I believe most people who know me well would call me an optimist, a happy cat who always lands on her feet. But lately, I've been getting the oddest feeling that something is off kilter - out there. I guess I'll just ride it out until this vague malaise wears off - until people around me start getting happy again.
Oh, yes. One other thing. While I was lazing about in bed with a bottle of Vicks tucked under my nose, I had one of those home shopping network TV shows turned on. They were selling make-up. The model, who we were told was 70, stared into the camera looking a sad and forlorn "before." Suddenly and for the first time in my life, I feared death. Don't ask me why my thoughts flew thus...I could not tell you. But the grim reaper...the black crow...is immediately what came to mind. I promised myself that when I go, dammit, I want to go in full-makeup! Ah, yes, "When the hurlyburly's done, When the battle's lost and won." Macbeth 1.1