Early this morning I got a call from Grace missing us and in tears. Lots of this is hard.
It probably would be easier if I weren't still sick.
This morning, I thought I felt better. I even considered trying a short run -- remember that I often use runs to ward off illness. I thought it might clear the rest of the cold from my body. But, I reconsidered and instead suggested to Earl that we walk to Cezanne's atelier, his art studio, and then on up the hill for his view of Mont Sainte-Victoire, hopefully in time for the sunrise, which was scheduled for 8:07 according to my weather app.
As we walked, the equivalent of 37 stories up the hill, my body let me know this was a mistake. My energy waned and I really just wanted to go back to bed.
Plus, the sky was overcast and we couldn't see the mountain.
I saw it in May when I went running in Aix. This is the same vantage point as above but with sunshine and clear skies.
Still, my energy was sapped probably for the day.
I slipped into a bath, which felt heavenly in the steamy bathroom, but when I stood up to get out, I remembered how draining baths can be. Then I really wanted to go lie down.
I'm sitting on the couch now with the sunshine and blue sky peeking through the garden and a well-behaved cat sleeping next to me.
At least I'm at a place where I can relax. I'm warm enough and there's plenty of sleep time available. I should heal quick enough if I stop overdoing it.
I knew things would look up eventually.