I'm in bed with the full-on intestinal flu. The fever, the aches, the every-ten-minute-trips-to-the-bathroom, the bucket by the bed, all of it. So much for everything that had to get done today — it's hard to work when you can't stand up.
Being sick always makes me really miss my mom. I think everyone wants their mother when they are sick, actually. From the time I was little and she would leave me with my glass of flat seven-up (and then try to get some work done, much as I am doing now), to after my neck surgery when she came over and sat with me every day, she was always there for me.
Luckily, those I love try their best to fill the void. Patrick has risen to take care of things wonderfully, even though he is still on the mend from a cold. Beatrix comes and hangs with me. My friend Geri dropped off a care package, even though I am the worst friend in the world because she had the same thing a few weeks ago and I did not even know. Even Mimi hung out with me all day like cat velcro.