Sick (and Snowy)

My right leg is comfortable, I decided as I curled on the floor. Determined to find some reason to live, I tried to focus on how the muscles were relaxed in my thigh and calf, ankle and foot. Nestled on a pallet of freshly-laundered linens, I made small adjustments to my nest on the floor of the bathroom in the basement. I swallowed against a wave of nausea and my right leg cramped when I pulled myself into a ball of shuddering misery.

I hate to throw up so I breathed shallowly, trying to cling to control over the shards of pain poking at me. I focused on the sounds of the washing machine, moaning pitifully when I rolled so I could see the t-shirts as they sloshed through the wash cycle in my front loading washing machine. I tucked an arm under my head, wondering if I was feverish. My stomach clenched warningly and I curled my toes in irritation. I was tired of being sick.

But, as was my plan, the sound and smell of washing clothes lulled me into a fitful nap. I woke, unsure of how much time had passed, when the machine beeped at me. I blinked at it stupidly, finally realizing the clothes were ready to dry. I stood slowly, gripping the counter for balance, and shivered when I realized I was freezing. I tugged a sheet around my shoulders and shuffled toward the washer, breathing in the clean and tossing wet shirts in the dryer. I set the dial and depressed the gray button to begin the tumbling anew.

I trudged upstairs, sheet dragging behind me, and flopped on the loveseat before squirming with discomfort. I continued upward and flopped on my bed, feeling restless and miserable. I finally settled, prone and propped on various pillows across the foot of the bed. I watched as fluff continued to settle on my upstairs deck, feeling vaguely guilty that I hadn’t shoveled a new path for the puppy off the back deck. Another inch drifted from the sky, swirling playfully in the brisk winds, and soothed by the gentle fall of snow I paid someone to shovel, I went to sleep again.