I keep thinking that the sniffles surely are in their final act, that at any hour, I will feel the surge of good health, that a runny and bright red sore nose is about to return to something more attractive -- but no. Stuck in a drip -- like a plumbing fixture that defies fixing, drip drip drip, one side, the other, a never ending leak.
Immensely tired, dragged down, I consider taking a sick day. But frankly I have never in my life taken a sick day for something less than a brain hemorrhage. So instead I rifle through the drawer that some might call a medicinal drawer, except that it doesn't really have much in it. Motrin for when a daughter comes over and asks -- do you have a Motrin? But I do find Sudafed -- so I pop a pill and wonder why it is having no effect. I examine the box. Four years past the expiration date. Well now, maybe it's like planting old tomato seeds -- some (most) will take hold.
Immensely tired and drippy, I drag myself to class. And then I stay late, thinking that I should make a dent on classes for tomorrow and the next day and the next day because surely if I'm slated to only get worse, then I'll be in no position to fix things later on.
On the way home, I take note of our wonderful lakes. April 8th and still a tad icy. But not entirely. Don't you think we've reached the turning point? Doesn't it look like tomorrow the ice will be history?
I'll end with that photo. A reminder that ice melts, drips cease, days turn around. Patient: just have to be patient.