Where I've Been

In brief, I've been sick. Early last week, I had a nasty upper-respiratory bug. It might be more accurate to say that said bug did a hammerlock and pile-driver on me. I had been coughing in the mornings for a week or so previously, but thought it was probably allergies. Then, last Monday, I just couldn't stop coughing. Monday evening, I had a case of the chills. Which I figured was a sure sign Iwas running a fever.

Tuesday morning, I still felt feverish, and I took the day off. Aside from a couple of TV shows, and a DVD, I slept most of the day. I still felt bad the last three days of the week, but had some work I felt oblidged to attend to (a deadline was involved), so I went in to work. I barely controlled the coughing with some Halls, and took some Tylenol forthe fever.

I took off at noon on Friday. Slept most of that afternoon. And, although the weekend was absolutely gorgeous, I slept the better part ofSaturday and Sunday as well.

I believe I'm on the mend. There's a vestige of the cough, but nothing like what it was. I've got a bit of a headache this morning, but Isuspect that it comes from the coughing.

I think I must have been depressed with that illness as well, because I was totally uninterested in myself. I had nothing of interest to say. I had been reading last year's entries, seeking "Best of" selections, and found it all flat and uninspired. I couldn't face the thought of typingone more word in the process of sorting out my belly-button lint.

I couldn't even come up with a poem about how bored I was with myself.

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Here's a mystery: two different people really liked the last poem I posted, "The Vagrant Daughter". There haven't been any comments posted on this space, but George Wallace (poet laurette of Suffolk County, NY) said it was the best thing I've shared with him. Alexandria liked it too.

The thing is, it was a bit of automatic writing, which I didn't think too much about, or of, at the time. So — how can I do it again?