What I saw: Friday, I felt something itchy and found a tick on my leg. I was driving to Pilates. Somewhere near the church where I voted, I pulled it off and dropped it out the window of my car. I think that afternoon a tick began a comic book about a superhero arachnid who gets superpowers from biting a woman with a lot of energy and ideas. They named her the Amazing Woman-Tick. She wears 8-legged yoga pants and cusses.
What I did beforehand: walked the dogs in the woods. Because that’s where I live.
What I wore: Sweaty Betty yoga pants, Lululemon top, grippy socks.
|Captain asks, "WHAT DO?"|
Who went with me: an audiobook recording of Tom Ryan reading his book about his dog, "Following Atticus." Recommended for dog owners and hikers. Books about dogs are always sad, and this one has sad parts, too.
How I got a tick: I walk my dogs almost every day.
Why I saw this show: because life is unfair.
Where I sat: driver’s seat.
Things that were sad: I have gotten good at pulling ticks out of my dogs, so I know how to do it so their heads don’t come off.
Things that were funny: I went in the kitchen at one point and found that Captain had stolen the butter off the counter and left it in his kennel.
|You can't blame the doll this time.|
Things that were not funny: I had a busy day on Monday, with a mammogram first thing and several other appointments. By the second appointment of the day I was feeling weird and dizzy and out of it. Nauseous, even. I woke up on Tuesday with a very unhappy belly, but went to my riding lesson because riding usually makes me feel better. I had a tough lesson; my horse could tell I wasn’t 100% and took advantage of it. It was as close as I’ve come to crying in a lesson in a few years. I went home and got in bed.
Schwartz thought it was glorious. When I woke up three hours later I took the dogs on a zombie-shuffle walk down the road and back up the road. I convinced myself that I needed to go to the doctor, and I hadn’t yet gotten around to getting the everything-but-the-lady-parts kind of doctor. I logged in to our medical insurance company website and picked a doctor based on how close a practice I could find. Then I watched four episodes of “The Crown” on Netflix and slept another seven hours.
You ever notice how long the tea pot takes to boil when you're sick and only drinking tea?— Hamsteria d'Relish (@hamsterRelish) December 7, 2016
On Wednesday I woke up at the normal time and texted 19 to ask him to walk and feed the dogs. I starting sending more texts to cancel my Wednesday things. I saw a Tweet in Chinese about my husband planting a tree in India and decided I should go watch more of "The Crown." My phone rang and it was the guy who was supposed to do some noisy work on the property tomorrow and he wanted me to know they had a change of schedule and were coming today. The trucks were rolling down my driveway before we finished our conversation. They left after dark.
I ordered some groceries to be delivered tomorrow, and this is something I am bad at anyway but I am especially bad at when I don’t feel good. And I really don't feel good. I think there is some oatmeal coming, but no tapioca pudding because they didn’t have it. Maybe I will have to make rice pudding for myself if I can summon the energy for the stirring. Probably, that won't happen.
In the afternoon, I went to the new doctor hoping to get a Lyme test and a prescription for doxycycline. The doctor was very nice, and completely certain that it was the wrong kind of tick because I wouldn’t have been able to pull out a Lyme tick in the car. Or something like that. He gave me a boyishly reassuring smile and said that I should let him know if I’m not better by Friday.
Something I ate: a satsuma. A bowl of white rice.
What it is: a couple of sick days.
I had a vague goal to take a shower but decided that taking off my pajamas and getting dressed was like a dry shower #stillsick— Hamsteria d'Relish (@hamsterRelish) December 7, 2016
Who should see the Crown: people who stop watching shows because of unnecessary rape scenes, those who were disappointed in the historical inaccuracies and extravagant melodrama of Downton Abbey, but appreciate castles and posh accents and clothes of a bygone era, connoisseurs of love stories and tales of the burdens of responsibility, fans of triple strands of pearls.
What I saw on the way home: potholes filled to the rim with rainwater, because in my town the dirt roads are highly prized. When the colder weather comes, the water will freeze, white and flat, and the ticks