Time On My Hands. I Paid The Price.

Being sick is miserable in a way people underestimate. Everyone assumes you're lounging around with nothing but free hours, when the reality is you fall behind and eventually the bill comes due. The work doesn't move without you. And the moment you're back on your feet, everybody wants a piece of you at once.

I was actually on the mend. Then I made the mistake of lifting my two-and-a-half-year-old grandson into my lap. He'd gone more than two weeks without seeing me because of my cold, which I'd downplayed as nothing much (you don't hand a toddler the full story). Hoisting him up, I pulled muscles in my neck and back. Progress, then a step backward. For a while I couldn't turn my head or tip it forward to look at anything. I technically could, but the pain made it not worth it. That ruled out typing, too.

Sleep was the other thing it cost me. The coughing wouldn't quit long enough for me to drift off. On top of that, every time I shifted around trying to find a comfortable position, a muscle spasm would kick in. Climbing into bed hurt. Getting back out hurt worse. By the time I was up again I'd gone completely stiff and could barely move.

P.S.: None of this is a joke, April Fools' Day or not.

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