Bosses, Haikus, and Fruitless Murmuring

Dear John,

 

I've felt better today. I'm still a little nauseated, but not as much as I have been. Today I felt the need for meat so I went down to Tiffany's and got the beef Manhattan to go. I was careful not to eat too fast, and it was good and good for me. I had another small baked potato for dinner. I'm feeling sicker as the night gets later - nothing unusual there - so I'll have liquid jello at bedtime.

 

Just an aside: Abby was in front of the television watching it when I turned it off. She's still sitting there with her face almost against the blank screen, staring at it. Sometimes I can't figure out what's going on with the cats. It's the funniest thing. I tried to take a picture for you, but it's a black cat against a black screen in a dark room, so that didn't work.

 

All the local schools were closed today because of the wind chill, which stayed about -30. By mid-afternoon the temperature did finally get up above zero. Tonight we're getting a few more inches of snow. On Sunday we're expecting a sudden warm-up to the mid-20s. We'll all be out in shorts.

 

I found these two memes to share with you. Don't you love them? The first reminds me of Ben. Remember when you were in ICU with pneumonia years ago, and I called Ben to let him know, and he said, "He'll be in to work tomorrow, right?" I asked him what part of "in ICU with pneumonia" he didn't understand - I really did, in exactly those words - and said that you'd be in whenever I called and said that you would. Ben and I were friends from that moment on.

 

The second I knew you'd love because it's so completely me. I keep the house at 63, which is fine when I'm either up and dressed or in bed between flannel sheets. It's the in-between time that's tough. And I so hate getting up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom when it's cold like this! It's the perennial winter dilemma.

 

So go to sleep tonight knowing that I'm snug and warm in my flannel nighty under my flannel sheets with my four furry heating pads arrayed on and around me. And picture me peering out from under the sheets murmuring fruitlessly, like Sheldon, "I am the master of my own bladder."

 

Missing you between those flannel sheets,

Joan.