Last night was a restless exercise in trying to keep my nose clear and my head comfortable. The good news is that most of my used tissues made it into the wastebasket. The bad news is that not much sleep was to be had.

My co-workers pretty much sent me home after a few hours yesterday, because every time I spoke I started hacking as if I was about to produce a massive hairball. That’s not especially convincing to the prospective students, who are probably equally unimpressed to hear the boss call me “Typhoid Mary.”

Anyway. I decided to save some trouble by just staying home today.

Of course, I have to ask myself why my body would choose sickness and make itself vulnerable to a virus at this particular time. (‘Cause I’m all new-agey and stuff.) The obvious answer is that I need to slow down and pay attention to my life, and my body, and my surroundings.

One thing that’s been going on is that our home will be undergoing a transformation. We’ve decided to finish our basement, and our contractor friend came over to do an estimate on Sunday. I’m sure it’s going to stir the chi up (not to mention the dog hair), and our intention is to use the space to achieve a few of our dreams. Not literal ones–although I’ve been having those, too. For instance, I had a vivid, realistic dream about moving into a small apartment. At first we thought it was awesome, and then we realized the kitchen had a separate entrance. We’d need to go out the front door and back into the kitchen door to get there. Pretty inconvenient, especially with the winters we get around here, no? Anyway, why the kitchen? Is that related to my weight, or what? I could go into the body image revelations I’ve had lately, but that’s a whole ‘nother post, which I’ll probably do over on the other side.

I just hope I’m ready to choose work tomorrow.