Could there be a Spanish virus I haven't met yet?
but today, having been tracked down by yet another bug I seem never to have met before, I am wheezing, tearing up, coughing and wishing, just a little, that I lived closer to my mother and her chicken and escarole soup.
Let's just officially mark down one downside of running away to Spain, when you run from the States, ok?
The move seems to carry with it a certain number of unavoidable nasty colds.
On the bright side, the thick wooden "doors" (my shades are shutters, but wooden, solid and interior) on the huge windows I normally open wide to coax in the sun today create an infirmary like no other. Ourside I hear my neighbors splashing in the pool; inside it's dark and cool. A little Indigo Girls, I think, a cold glass of horchata, and a sick day catching up on the blog.
Hope you're feeling better, wherever you are, and that when you need it, you have a way to tightly close the shutters and rest a while, alone, inside.
Labels: on living in Spain