If I'm dead, this isn't heaven...

I cannot shake this cold. It settled in my throat earlier this week and now I have no voice and a terrible dry cough. Vast tracts of blowing sands and acres of prickly cacti have sprouted in my throat. And I haven't been able to take sick time because it would short-staff us to the point of leaving one person on the Reference Desk for two days in a row. I can't do that to my coworkers.

For the past 2 nights I have awoken sometime around 2 or 3 in the morning in a fit of coughing that won't subside until I get up and make some tea with honey to sooth my vocal cords. I think it is entirely possible that I may have died in my sleep last night but if I did, I didn't go up. This afterlife that I am floating through like a jellyfish looks remarkably like a library with a Reference Desk I must staff and answer questions. And I know it must be hell because the questions seem stupider today. (More stupid? I'm stupid.)

I didn't go to my knitting group on Thursday...I stayed home. We didn't do anything last night....I laid on the couch. We're supposed to go to Sarah's tonight to write, but I have a feeling we'll bag that too. If I am, in fact, still alive, I will need to rest mightily before going back to work. Chicken soup, lots of fluids, blah, blah, blah.

Of course, no one tells you that when you are in the middle of an obsession and you get sick, that yearning for yarning doesn't go away. My husband calls my knitting "yarning" which I think is cute and endearing. But I was lying in bed like a good girl on Thursday night, resting my weary bones. I took a nap until about 8 when my Mom called. After that I lay there and thought about cabling. I knew the theory of how to do it, but I wanted to try. And I actually dragged my ass out of bed to knit. What is the matter with me? I did, by the way, my first swatch of cable. And everyone who told me about it is right - it is really easy.

So when I go home at 5 I am getting chicken soup. I am going to go home and have dinner. Then I am going to try to fight the urge to knit and actually get some rest.

I really hope I'm not dead. I thought heaven would be full of hand-dyed, hand-spun cashmere.