Lazy Sunday mornings

We had planned a bike ride today, forty or more miles. We only have a few weeks left before the Century to train. But life and weather decided not so much. 

It started earlier this week, when Wayne picked up a particularly nasty cold. He’s one of those people (bless them) who goes to work sick unless he is really too sick to work. I am not. Of course he passed his illness to me. We really do share everything. I started feeling bad on Wednesday and when I woke up Thursday morning with the simultaneous feelings that I could not catch my breath and that my throat had been cheese-grated in my sleep, I called off work. Wayne was still sick; he called off as well. I spent the day either snoozing on the couch or curled under a blanket with my Kindle. No exercise of any sort happened.

On Friday, I woke feeling a little better but far from good so I called out again. When Wayne left to go to work, I went back to bed and slept until he got off at 11. There was lunch and there was more resting and the consumption of copious amounts of ibuprofen. I propped myself up well enough to take a shower (you’re welcome) and get dressed so I could go with Wayne to his eldest daughter’s wedding rehearsal. I cried, a lot. I could blame it on still being a bit under the weather but that would not be entirely true. I’m just a crier, plain and simple. We went to the groom’s parents’ house for a little buffet dinner party, where we met a lot of their family, most of whom I won’t remember – I am terrible with names – and then it was home and bed, pretty early for a Friday.

Saturday I lazed around in my jammies for hours before deciding I needed to do something outside of the house. I trekked to Goodwill and picked up some stunningly cute dresses (I did a super job choosing them if I do say so myself). Then I picked up my son to have some mama-mama’s boy time. I took him to the mall to help me pick a couple pairs of shoes. I took him to Barne’s and Noble where I got iced coffee and he got a Frappaccino. We went to a drug store and he helped pick a card for the wedding and we picked up some random stuff. Then I dropped him home, went home myself, and got ready for the rest of the day.

And then it was time for the wedding. My husband looked amazing in his suit, and he did his job of giving his daughter to one of his close friends with grace and humor – basically as he does most things. I got to meet some of his relatives for the first time. I gushed over his beautiful daughters; the bride was stunning and her sisters/bridesmaids were heart-breakingly lovely. I drank beer and champagne and wine. I danced a little bit and gave out hugs. I ate amazingly good food and talked to a bartender who reminded me of my daughter. I snapped pictures, first with one of the girls’ digital camera and then with my phone. I smiled so much my face ached. I drank so much that I started stealing cigarettes. I had a wonderfully good time.

When we got home, we barely managed to get into jammies before falling into bed and sleep. I have no idea what time it was. I woke at 2 AM with a dry mouth and a pounding head. I got a glass of water and a handful of ibuprofen and went back to bed. After lying there for a few minutes, feeling the pain pulse in my temples in time with my heartbeat, I realized that I would not be quickly going back to sleep and got out my Kindle to start reading. A couple hours later (I saw 3:45 when I went to get my third glass of water), I went back to sleep to the sounds of thunder and the the steady drum of rain falling.

And that brings us to today. I slept in and woke up with the headache gone but still feeling oddly shaky and uncoordinated. Wayne said we weren’t going to do the 40 miles; it is too wet out there. We may do a short ride later today. I’m fine with all of that, really. I have a lot to do today: working out, cleaning, preparing for the upcoming work week. But not just yet. I’m going to enjoy this feeling of being languid and slow for a little while longer. I’ll write a bit, read a bit, and maybe look at pictures of cats. For a little while longer, I will let myself be lazy.

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