Flora and I are the only quiet ones today. Our real life, feathered chicas are clucking and laying, and dust-bathing. Our lady goats are making their regular, happy noises (Oops, and apparently escaping, too!) And all of the other bipeds are cleaning! Dishes are being washed, surfaces cleared, laundry shuffled, papers sorted, stuff dusted. It is a flurry. A wondrous, good flurry.
And in the midst of all of this domestic domesticity, I am sick.
Swift & Sudden Sickness Delivery!
They rang the doorbell, I answered, and blam!
Sickness. Is it ever good timing? Not likely.
I already protested, indignantly declaring this Inconceivable!
But that made no difference.
So, now I am at the resigned phase, trying to cover my bases, and anticipate any necessary adjustments.
Coming soon... the pitiful, writhing and moaning phase!
We happen to be hosting a zombie party tonight, for a certain televised season opener, but this is something the boys have well under control. They're decorating, cleaning, preparing, fortifying, and arming themselves for a scary good time. Maria and I will stick with the same plan we had all along: Hide upstairs! We'll have a stack of good story books, hot tea for me, and cookies and milk for her.
And now, I am going to take my first cup of hot tea, my VapoRub, and Flora, and crawl back into bed, for my quiet Sunday.