Still sick.
The cold has moved from my chest up into my nose, which is now streaming like a mini-tsunami.
If I think back to Shirley MacLaine's theory - which I have probably misquoted, but bear with me here - that this is dis-ease, then I am a little confused. With the coughing and sore throat, I understand that perhaps I had something to get off my chest, what with being laid off last week. But now I have something to get out of my nose?
OK, OK, I shouldn't always mock the tree-hugging Hippie crap. There is something to a holistic view of the body, of the world.
So if my nose is streaming, maybe I have something that I need to let go of out of my head.
(Sidenote: Watching Sesame Street about penguins. "There's no business like snow business" - LOL! Waaay better than the IQ-lowering morning shows.)
OK, so what do I need to get out of my head?
(Hang on, I have to sing the Penguin song with Elmo...)
I'm back. I shouldn't have tried to sing.
Anyway...
My head, my head... what do I need to get out of my head?
I guess... negative thoughts? Seems too obvious, really. OK let's get them out there:
- It will take too long for FBear and I to find our next jobs and we'll run out of savings
- FBear and I won't find jobs in the same city
- I won't find a job
- I'll have to work for a lot less money
- I won't have the energy to look for a job
OK, enough. Because I actually don't believe any of this. We've been through way worse before (take a bow for the nice ladies and gentlemen, DotComBubbleBurst!) and we came out the other side with better jobs in a better place. We're both better qualified, more savvy and still flexible about what we do and where we live. We really are going to be just fine.
So.... Maybe I need to stop over-thinking this and accept I just have a cold.
OK. I can do that.
So I'm cooking up a brew. There's fresh grated ginger and fresh squeezed organic lemon juice and a fresh cinnamon stick. Unfortunately I forgot to get honey so I had to carve some crystallized New Zealand stuff out of an old jar, but let's not be too fussy.
It's all stewing in water on the stove and I am enjoying thinking "Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble" when I stir it. I am not actually saying it out loud, because I still sound like the bastard child of Kathleen Turner and James Earl Jones.
So never mind the excessive introspection, it's time to get some more witches brew, turn up the volume on Curious George and lay back on the couch.
Aaaaaaah....