I am not, let me tell you, a girl who skips a meal. Feed a cold, feed a fever, feed it all. But what I have put past my lips in the past 48 hours can be measured in slices (of toast),  grains (of rice), and sips (of ginger ale.) It’s getting kind of old. And I could also do without the chills and low-grade fever that has popped up every night for the past three just as the sun sets. If I look straight ahead and stay under a blanket, it’s ok. But we all know how well that goes when there’s a 6-year-old in the house.

Tomorrow, I’ll be better. Because I’m willing it so.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s