So much for relaxing

Feb 03, 2005

I did get my bath, but beyond that it has not been a relaxing few days. The stomach flu hit. It got Jon first, then about three A. M. Trinity knocked on our door, and I knew. Let’s just say that there was no sleep that night, and that I got to mop the bathroom floor. I put Jon on one side of me and Trin on the other, and just kept running first one then the other in and out. It was one of those moments when I was just thankful that I hadn’t gotten it. So thankful. I don’t know what we would have done if we’d all had it. Who would have taken care of us? Jon, later, said, “We would have called my parents.” I said, “No, no we wouldn’t,” because it just wouldn’t have occurred to me to call for help at nearly four in the morning for the flu. It turns out that even if we had needed help that badly it wouldn’t have been helpful, because Mary and Art had it, too. Which means sometime while we were all out having a celebratory lunch, about finishing the book, we were all exposed to the virus. I had a very mild upset tummy earlier in the day, the rest of them worshipped the porcelain god for a couple of days. I got off very lucky.
Sometime around 4 A. M. of that first morning my comings and goings for mop buckets and garbage bags woke the dogs. If I didn’t get them out I’d have dog crates to clean on top of everything else so there I was, cold winter dark before dawn, in my jammies, my robe, a winter coat over it all, and hiking boots on my feet, waiting for the dogs to do their business. People ask me why doesn’t all the fame go to my head, well . . . Family, small child, dogs, it’ll all keep you humble, as in down to earth. How can I possibly buy my own hype when I’m out in the cold and the dark in jammies and boots with four dogs, waiting for them to find the perfect spot in the yard. Straining my ears, as if I could possibly hear if my husband and daughter are being sick again. Real life, it keeps things in perspective.
For all of you fans that keep wanting my life to be more like what I write, well, sorry, if you don’t want the truth, you gotta let me know.