I still haven’t recovered from the virus that struck me down two weeks ago. I am exhausted from coughing, struggling to breathe deeply, and suffering from a general malaise. I don’t even feel like getting out on this sunny day, although I’m pretty sure the Vitamin D would do me good. Once again I think, “imagine how tired I would be if I had children.”
But you know, if I had had children, they would now be old enough to look after themselves, do the dishes, tidy the house, amuse themselves by reading or playing on their own, or walk down the street to the playground. It wouldn’t matter so much that their mother was sick. I say this because if I imagine what it would be like to have a toddler at my age, I feel totally decrepit. Feeling sick is making me feel old enough. And also, I don’t see why I should feel guilty about moaning about feeling sick. Even not having children, surely I’m allowed to moan about feeling sick. Haven’t felt this bad for this long since I had dengue fever.
So apologies for the uninspired posting. Hopefully I’ll be back with some deeper thoughts in a few days. Cough. Splutter.