Three weeks ago I woke up feeling crappy. I ate some citrus, made myself a green juice and taught my yoga class. By noon I was on the couch with a fever. I am not a fever kinda girl. I get the annual cold where I am laid out for a week with a stuffy nose but that’s it.
I spent my days in a fever haze, taking vitamins and hot baths, using a cold compress on my forehead and feet, eating more citrus than I normally eat in an entire year, and yet I was running close to 101 temperatures and every day at around 2pm my fever would spike to 102. After 10 days it was clear I wasn’t getting better. I went to my local urgent care and I found out I had the flu that turned into a pneumonia.
I woke up this morning and freaked out. My house is a complete mess. I’m talking a shit show with piles on every available surface.
I immediately turned into the Tasmanian devil, running around picking things up, putting things away, and yelling at Fred, my husband,
How did things get this bad? This is ridiculous.
Honey, the house has been like this for weeks.
As I sat on the edge of the bed, pile of crap in hand, I realized he was right. Between my ten day cold and my trip to Rio, I had let things go and I hadn’t noticed.
And now, I was sitting here completely overwhelmed by it all. But the truth is it took at least a month for us to get here. Realistically it’ll take more than the half hour I have this morning to get us out.