I'm sitting in my office counting the minutes until I get to leave, even though it's heavily raining at the moment. My beloved was supposed to drive up and have supper with me, but I have a sneaky feeling my supper will be another frozen dinner eaten alone. The weather has canceled our plans for an evening out, so he's now talking about driving up Thursday evening instead. I have a meeting Friday morning, so I'll be here an extra night.
My 3 o'clock class got out very, very early. Students were so sick, hacking and coughing and sneezing, with little fever spots brightening their cheeks. I took their essays, had them write their journals, and showed them a short video. We'll get caught up on Thursday.
I'm still not feeling 100 percent, myself. Throat still tickly, sinus pressure still present. I will likely go to bed early again tonight.
I'm finding myself still doing grief counseling for my uncle's wife. My heart goes out to her. It's been three years, and she hasn't regained her joy. I guess I worry that she might get suicidal. If I lost the Esteemed and Beloved Spouse, I'd be as inconsolable as she is. But I do know that I have a "me" inside, and she's worried that whoever she is or was has disappeared. I have so much sympathy for her since I can easily imagine how I'd be if something happened to my husband. As much as I might fuss about him at times, I adore the very ground he walks on (to use an overused metaphor). The sofa he sits on as he "golf naps"? The air he snores at night? The sheets he rips up with his fungi-nails? :-)
Meanwhile, I'm eager to leave behind my germ-infested office (student papers with germs all over, plus house flies by the score).
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