Today was perhaps one of the most beautiful days of the year. No rain. The sun shone brightly. Just a slight hint of a breeze. The leaves on the trees are now past their prime, but some of the orange and yellow leaves are hanging tenaciously to their branches.

And as luck would have it, I woke up feeling sick. I did the inventory. Headache, side of my face hurt, congested, all (every single one of my joints) were achy.

I did my morning chores, milked the goat, tended to the horses, and had Pete give me an assist with a Covid test. It was negative; although I was feeling like I had the symptoms. I was relieved to not have Covid because Pete would then be exposed, and in addition to being sick, he’d be grumpy and irritable. After all, he’s the one with a real job.

Alys with cup

I then went upstairs and crawled back into bed. I was in bed most of the day. At about 2 p.m. I took my temperature – it was 99.6. I also took some Ibuprofen. Then I again climbed back into bed.

I considered having Pete give me a ride to the Meeting House since I wasn’t up for driving then decided against going anywhere. I also didn’t go to the Palmer Senior Center. I just didn’t have the energy.

The entire day, it felt like I was moving in slow motion, in deep water.

I got up around 3 p.m. and forced myself to go outside because, as I thought, it would be crime to bypass getting out on such a beautiful day.

I brushed Tinni and took him for a walk around the loop, then took the dogs for a walk in the woods. The woods are now again peaceful, or maybe I am at peace, or both. You’d think the hunters would put away their guns and go for lengthy walks. Sad to say, the woods are a playground, not a meditative site.

As I walked, I thought about being ill. For me, this is rare. I suspect that there are people out there who are in poor health a great deal of the time. Some have debilitating illnesses, like Pete’s sister’s husband. He has multiple sclerosis. This is one of life’s greatest unfairnesses, realizing that you feel like crap and aren’t going to get any better.

I think that the root cause of my illness is my sinuses. I hope that in two week’s time, I’m given a drug that takes care of the problem. Surgery does not appeal to me.

My friend Becky had a potentially cancerous mole removed today. She sent me a picture – there was blood all over her hair and shirt. You’d think that the surgeon would have been a bit more tidy.

Some people dwell on their illnesses – as they get older there is more to speculate about. I don’t want to be this way. In fact, I almost didn’t elect to write about being ill because I don’t want to bore anyone. Enough then. I hope that I feel better tomorrow. Hope remains that thing with feathers.

Next: +266. 9/28/22: Shine on you Crazy Diamond