The Bad Day

I was late waking up. Even though I had slept late, I was exhausted and soul weary. I felt like a wet coat.

Thankfully. I made my own schedule. No one cared if I was late, but my cat was put out. He was hungry when I finally got up. My husband was wondering what was wrong, but he was a freelancer, too. He understood.

I had been up until 3 AM trying to get a project completed. It was nice to hit “send” after getting it done. Next day, I was weary. It was laundry day.

I swallowed all my vitamins and medication that served to remind me of my abnormalities after a delicious breakfast. I remembered the garbanzo curry that I had made for dinner. Sudden sharp stomach pains started to hit me. I laid down.

I knew that I had stuff to do and I was not going to get any extra money for the groceries if I just slept in. The pains were bad. I thought about my poor husband editing the columns in the other room the night before. He was into the bedroom when he heard me cry out. He rubbed my stomach.

Darn curry. I should stick to tamales.

2 thoughts on “The Bad Day

  1. I love too many people who have hidden disabilities that can be triggered by beloved food. I am so sorry; and I love your phrase “soul weary”…it feels appropriate for so much.

    Like

  2. Tamales are always a safe bet, huh? ☺️Great post!

    Like

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this:
search previous next tag category expand menu location phone mail time cart zoom edit close