Late morning, and I'm ensconced on the couch. I've created a weird fort of cushions - the better to rest my legs, and laptop. (At this point, I'm surprised it hasn't premanently grafted itself to my lap!)
I'm sick. Swigging pink grapefruit flavor Airborne, I listen to the eerie rattle in my chest with a certain measure of pride. And then, outside, a bobbing teal jewel. I hold my belabored breath and watch the hummingbird flit from flower to flower, it's path dizzyingly impossible.
In my physical misery, all clogges sinuses and wadded-up Kleenex, I feel dazzlingly lucky - like I've somehow stolen a moment, or a miracle.