It was so cold last night that the daffodils and tulips in the garden keeled over and remained that way for most of the day. A small icicle formed on the outside faucet. The cars had transformed into igloos. The sky was egg shell blue.
I started to feel the chills coming on at noon. I couldn't blame them on the house because the heating was running full blast. If I had been feeling well I would certainly have made a batch of cinnamon buns but my head prickled in stabs of pain. My throat hurt. I couldn't decide if my legs felt like jelly or lead and so I lay on the couch soaking in a blast of sunshine that calmed the freeze in my body somewhat. Small dog joined me and together we dreamed of faraway lands bathed in warm breezes and palm trees.
The sun went behind a floating giant jellyfish of a cloud and I shivered again. I had to get into bed. I found an old Aran sweater and put it on and the thickest pair of socks I could find. I climbed in and snuggled down, Small dog waited until I called her.
Afternoon t.v. is not something I am familiar with. I watched people look to buy houses in the countryside, eat Mexican food in Alberta, model lingerie in Paris, drive through Hollywood and bake cakes as big as cougars. It was extremely boring. I vowed to talk to H about what we subscribe to on TV and that we could possibly delete all those terrible, meaningless, erratic programmes.
I also thought that I should not have worn that vintage dress out to dinner on Saturday night. How I had deliberated between sensible and dressy. How I knew I was paying the price for standing outside in practically nothing to look at a bunch of gigantic stars that weighed down the sky.
H came up to ask how I was doing. I said, terrible. I desperately needed some sympathy. Paracetamol. Hugs. A pat on the head would have sufficed. But all he said was that it was nice and cosy in the bedroom, really warm, he stretched out on the bed and yawned. I reminded him that we were not going to have the fabulous creamy seafood chowder I had planned on making for dinner. I suggested he order pizza. He looked appalled. He closed his eyes. I thought he was going to nod off but he didn't, he opened his eyes and looked at me and said he felt a bit of a sore throat coming on. I couldn't believe it. I could have screamed until I saw the dog on her back, paws straight up in the air like she was having a serious fit of canine madness. I burrowed deeper down into the quilt, grabbed the remote and came across Psychic Sally on The Road. My god! Help! Let me out of here. NOW!