Ahhh, Christmas. My most favourite time of the year.
This year, however, things were a little different, thanks to my flu that is still hanging on tight and giving me continuous grief morning, noon and night, AND our trip to Florida, which somehow mixed my head all up and made me think it wasn't Christmas (I mean, you can't have Christmas and palm trees at the same time, right?), so then suddenly I wasn't in the Christmas spirit anymore, and everything seemed surreal, like I was in a modern version of It's A Wonderful, Wonderful Life.
This year Christmas was more of a challenge than usual because I was pretty much bed-bound until Dec. 23, when I forced myself to run a brush through my hair and head out into the throngs of crazy people to get the last of what was needed for the holidays. Of course, I overdid it that day, because on Christmas Eve, I felt like crap, more than usual. My fever came back, I felt weak, and I had to lie down every few minutes. That'll teach me to actually put effort into something.
Apart from a nose that is still running like a broken faucet, and a cough that is still keeping me up all night, despite the mega doses of numerous
mostly legal medications, I still rather enjoyed myself this holiday, especially watching the kids open their gifts. To me, that's the best part of it all. That, and the copious amounts of baked goods, but since I have no working tastebuds at the moment, I'm not even looking at cookies or chocolates. Not looking at them, but I didn't say I wasn't eating them.
So, we had a very nice dinner Christmas day, with most of the family staying very far away from me, Em and Mr. Handsome since we all had various versions of The Plague. They almost canceled Christmas dinner altogether, but Mr. Handsome convinced them that doing so would be a very, very, very bad decision.
And this is the first year that I believe I only ate maybe half my dinner. HALF MY DINNER! And, when I say "dinner", I mean perfectly roasted turkey, beautifully mashed potatoes, turnip, parsnips, carrots, Brussels sprouts, amazing stuffing, and the best gravy this side of the ocean. Now, the question is, did I only eat half because I'm still sick? Or is it because I still cannot taste or smell anything and, therefore, only ate what my body required, and not what my nose and tongue wanted to stuff down my gullet? Probably a little of both, knowing me.
Apart from Christmas day, I have laid low, lying on the couch or in bed for the most part, staying away from all semblance of anything living, ingesting many pills and liquids, and watching reruns of Dog, The Bounty Hunter until it's coming out my hummahumma. I do think I'm getting better, but man, could things please speed up a bit? I'm getting sick and tired of being sick and tired. I haven't seen any family or friends for forever, I am just starting to be able to speak again without having a major coughing and vomiting fit, and really just want to feel well enough so that I can try out my new camera lens from darling Mr. Handsome (who spent waaay more than he should have, and now probably expects lots of 'favours', IF you know what I mean) and be able to taste the amazing chocolate bark Em made for everyone.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go lie down again in the fetal position and suck my thumb while stuffing tissues up both nostrils, and watch the snow fall outside. I promise you some Florida photos next post, unless I end up unconscious, in which case please pray that I have a hunk for my attending physician, and that I am ultimately conscious and alive enough to notice and care.