The pajama day is vastly under-rated for its medicinal value. I’ve had a nasty case of flu for the last few days, and spent most of Saturday curled miserably on the family room sofa, shivering under four layers of quilts while my fever soared, sticking my wobbly head out only when the wracking coughs got so bad I couldn’t breathe inside my little cocoon. It wasn’t pretty.
So today I spent almost the entire day in bed, having what my family calls a “pajama day.” If you’ve guessed that this means I never got dressed, you’re absolutely right.
Under ordinary circumstances, the pajamas come off and the “real” clothes go on almost as soon as I get out of bed in the morning, and definitely within minutes of brushing my teeth. I’ve never been good at lounging around in a state of deshabille (I love that word – deshabille – but don’t think I’ve ever had a chance to use it before now!), but today I succumbed and stayed put. Aside from the slothfulness that is a natural corollary of feeling residually crappy, my husband, bless him, brought me a cup of tea fixed exactly the way I like it AND the Sunday newspaper. I spent the next several hours reading leisurely – in other words, spending Sunday exactly as it should be spent! And after that, I made the I-cord and stitched the button onto my Lotus cardigan.
See how pale and sickly I look?
And after that, I finished a book I’ve really enjoyed: Lost Hearts In Italy, by Andrea Lee. And then I started a new knitting project, about which more later. And you know what? I actually feel so much better now.
After subsisting all day on nothing (lack of appetite is for me a sure sign that something is seriously wrong!) but cups of hot tea and glasses of cool orange juice that both felt good going down my raw throat, I think I might just have a little appetite for dinner. Is that pizza I smell?
Comments welcome