But the Days Are Getting Brighter

I am in a dark mood, right now.

I'm tired of anger and blame and fault-finding and feeling like all I can do is wrong, wrong, wrong.

I am tired of being held responsible for the well being of others, any others, adults, children, cats, plants...and that I am failing at it entirely.

While I'm whining, I would like not to feel like my sinuses are about to explode, making my molars ache, my head hurt, my eyes throb.  It would be lovely to blow my nose without experiencing deafness, earache, and dizziness.  I would like to be able to breathe freely, without fear that I am going to burst into paroxysms of violent coughing that leave me weak, dizzy, and useless.  Also, sometimes (and I hate to admit this), sometimes a little damper than I'd like because apparently there's some new cosmic rule that I have to pee a little when I cough, now.


What I would like is to be just sick enough to need to be put away somewhere restful, but not so plague-ridden that I can't come home again in a  little while, after maybe a few days of sleep and perhaps some pancakes that I didn't have to make and clean up after.  And, when I did come home, I would like to feel whole and well, not tired and worn.

I would like to be taken care of.

What can I say, I am weak.

Although my common sense and experience tell me no one's stepping up to make me soup or do whatever it is people do when they look after someone who wants/needs it, my dreaming self, the wistful part of me, kinda wishes...

I made my own soup and tried not to let Sprout do too much damage while I felt wretched on the lounge this afternoon.  Since no one seems to have noticed, I guess I did okay.

And yes, I am feeling sorry for myself.  I don't really care that there's someone who has it worse.  For today, at least, I'M the someone who has it worse.  Someone else can have the honor tomorrow.