And so by law of the land and whatever other cosmic forces are at work here, I am officially ill. Not the sort of ill that knocks you out and lays you flat on your back beside the toilet for 3 days but the kind of ill that lingers like a bad smell, permeating throughout your house, until even you can't smell the stench anymore.

I fought myself yesterday, attempting to prove I wasn't as sick as my body was trying to tell me and went about business as usual. Outside the seeds of imagination were planting bulbs of color in my porch side garden, raking as I was in my pajama pants and pink matching top, dirt squishing between my bare toes. But my mind couldn't focus, lost admist the cold northern breeze that had yet to give up its claim to winter, raising goosebumps on my arm. I wasn't ready to give myself over into the oblivion of illness, to waste the daylight hours curled fetal style in my bed, head pounding and unable to sleep. There was much to be done but little I could actually do.

Inside, my mind switched to light cleaning mode, refusing to be down for the count. My body was quick to remind me however, that I was no longer the one in charge, the dizzy spells beginning as I loaded the dishwasher. Clutching my head to stop the spinning, I quickly located the advil, took two and crawled my way upstairs to be find my bed. Where up until an hour or two ago, I was passed out and completely lost to the world.

Consciousness for now seems to be holding to its own but I am not one to tempt fate. Today is going to be a lazy, all about pampering me back to good health day. I've got my fuzzy bunny slippers, my favorite blanky, a nice soft pillow, a book and a tv remote to see me through. Now if only there were someone out there who cared enough to bring me a nice bowl of chicken noodle soup, my recovery would be guaranteed.