aka why you haven’t heard from me in days…
So I decided to try something different for Christmas this year: treat myself to a case of bronchitis, because I thought, well, I’ve never had it before so let’s give it a go. It was the worst Christmas present one could get oneself. If you have the opportunity to present yourself with bronchitis, just say “no.”
Parties, dinners, preparing Christmas brunch and Christmas dinner all were affected by fatigue, coughing, the phlegm procession, the 100-mile per hour sneezes. Talk about putting a damper on a celebration. Even packing for the annual New Year’s pilgrimage to OBX felt like trying to move through a viscous fog, taking more hours than it should have and even when I was done, I didn’t know if I’d actually packed all of the required items or if I’d get there and discover that instead of sheets and towels I’d packed conspiracy theory newspaper clippings, which I don’t have, but somehow didn’t seem out of the realm of possibilities.
Yet I’m here in Kitty Hawk. The day that had promised to be rainy has allowed sunshine to creep in just as I am trying to let the sunshine creep into me and heal not only my body but my mind.
I’m back just in time to ring in and bring in the New Year.