perhaps it wasn't the bad air

i woke this morning at 4 with a grumbling, hungry stomach and a heavy, achy feeling all over my body. my runny nose from last night had been replaced by a dry, stuffy, man-do-i-wish-i could-breath nose. even in the darkness, i could see that the stomach issue and the achy feeling would only be resolved if i got up and rummaged around for something to eat and something to wash down the acetaminophen. somehow, i rose and dragged myself to the kitchen for a bowl of wheaties with bananas, downed the tylenol, and headed back to bed.

i woke again as jack was leaving for work. shortly thereafter, i heard the stirrings of the boys as they prepared and left for school. i was certain that before he left, jr would come into my room to check on me and would offer to pick up a cup of warm chai tea, but to my dismay, i heard the front door open and close twice and then the house grew still.

jojo followed me to the kitchen, watching as i toasted, buttered and then sprinkled cinnamon and sugar on two slices of eight grain bread. the strawberry kiwi crystal lite did the job of washing down more of the tylenol, but it was so unsatisfying when all i really wanted was a warm chai latte.

i had this idea that if i got up and got moving that i would lose the aches and could soon be dressed and off to work. i sat down in my blogging chair intending to eat my toast, read my favorites, comment wittily, and then prepare to leave, but soon realized the little bit of energy i'd had in me was gone. i oozed back to bed.

all morning i slipped in and out of sleep. each time i woke up, i was convinced my fingers had mysteriously become fat sausages, unable even to open a bottle of diet coke. my usually smooth gliding joints--ankles, knees, hips, wrists, elbows, shoulders, eyelids--had changed and now felt as if they were all formed from cement that was hardening more and more each second and were far too heavy for my weakling muscles. i kept hoping someone would come in and brush my teeth for me.

when not awake pondering my heavy joints, i slept the fitful day sleep that is accompanied by freakish dreams that today included a trip to a lake with jack and someone's boys, not ours, who insisted on ski jumping over my back as i lay near a ski jump, which then morphed into jack deciding it was lunchtime and he wanted a tuna sandwich but all three cans of tuna in the pantry were bulging and i couldn't convince him that was an indication of spoilage and if we just waited a bit our boys would be home with lunch for him and tea for me. for some reason, the next door neighbor from my childhood, medford, appeared in the dream, riding his lawn mower around his yard after greeting jack. i was surprised to see med still mowing his lawn since i thought he passed away several years ago. i was sad to see med alone, a man who spent his entire life providing for his family, leaving early each morning in a white shirt and tie, returning each evening for dinner and whatever else it was that suburban men did each evening in the post-1960 era.

ever on guard, jojo started and sat up, alert, hearing something, which something was a friend of the drummer, entering the house through the garage, singing at the top of his lungs. jo didn't bother to go greet him but instead curled up tightly against me. i wondered if the friend would wander through the house and find me, but his journey stopped when he reached the desk and the computer and facebook.

my dozing was interrupted again when guard dog sat up again and then leapt from the bed, thundered down the hall, and greeted the drummer as he entered the house, also singing at the top of his lungs. somewhat surprisingly, the drummer came almost immediately to my room, asking how i was feeling, did i need anything? i said i felt achy but was okay. he headed back to the kitchen.

within a few minutes, jr arrived. he, too, visited my sick room, asking how i felt, did i want a cup of tea, and oh, would it be okay if they used my debit card to pick up fast food from panda express? i agreed to all requests and returned to my fitful sleep. all i really wanted was a cup of soothing, warm tea. and some more tylenol.

almost as quickly as it started, the commotion of boys in the house ceased. the computer typing stopped, the tv was turned off, the singing voices quieted, and the slamming of the door was the final sound before the house was once again, silent, sleeping.

i lay in my bed, listening for the sound of a car entering my driveway, but heard only car after car driving by, continuing down the street. after what seemed like forever, jojo again sat upright, leapt from the bed, and thundered into the kitchen to greet her boys, who were, this time, bringing food, and glorious tea. jr brought in a plate of chow mein with my latte. i had not realized how hungry i was, much to jojo's disappoinment, as she watched me greedily wolf down all of the noodles and veggies. in the end, i shared my fortune cookie with my fast food buddy, and while it seemed obvious that the fortune was all about me--"your optimism and courage are your best traits"--i realize as i type this that guard dog is all about courage and who could be more optimistic than a dog who waits mostly patiently hoping for the last bite of chow mein?