A Day in the Life of a Sick Woman
You know your cupboard is bare when you go looking for ramen noodles and can’t find any.
So, sick or not I donned my motorbike gear (pink scarf, white puffy coat, heels, etc.), a package of Kleenex, and went out in the cold, moist, cloud-covered air with my mouth wide-open like an unintelligent fool. (I can’t breathe through my nose).
I have friends who could bring me food, but then I’d have to put on make-up, clean my house and entertain them as guests for a while. It takes too much lung capacity and energy to talk … to convince someone you are going to be okay. When I am sick, I’d rather just get my own food; it’s less stressful overall. (My friends don’t have cars either, so it would be a big hassle for them to help.)
A little shop by the gate sells ramen. It also sells other heartburn-inducing carb food like Ruffles potato chips (barbeque sausage flavored) and muffins. The shop is out of Diet Coke. The gal promises me she’ll have some by next week. That’s what she said last week. I think the fizz of a Diet Coke would make me feel better. Fizz and caffeine, a glorious combination.
I putter down the road and find a vegetable vendor. I buy broccoli and onions, wondering what dish I can cook up with those two ingredients. Maybe sautéed broccoli and onions over ramen noodles? Ah, well, maybe not.
I go to the ATM machine, because I need rent money by the end of next week. There is a limit on how much I can take out each transaction, so I do seven transactions, at which point I hit my daily maximum withdrawal limit. I have to come for seven workdays in a row, doing seven transactions each time, in order to have enough money to make up the rent amount. I hope no other expenses come due before then, because all my money is going for rent. Sick or not, I have to go to the ATM every day. I hope the guy smoking the ghastly cigarette won’t be there next to me in this enclosed area of the bank every day.
(You may wonder how I have time to engage in activities related to rescuing the perishing when I have to stand in line at the ATM/bank/electric company/phone company/real estate office/gas company/cell phone company so often [Did you know that no bills are paid by mail here? All are paid in person]. Trust me, it annoys me too. Anyway, I’m sick, possibly with something infectious, so no one wants to be around me today anyway.)
I get home, only to be greeted with that look that says, “What? No dog food today?” The pet shop is so far away. Mimi already ate Italian spaghetti yesterday, so I’ve got to come up with something besides Ramen for her to eat today. Too much pasta can’t be good for her. Poor doggy.
I turn on the TV for noise. “House” is on. CNN is on the other station. I don’t care, I just wanna take a nap.
My elderly neighbors knock on the door. Loudly. They are not trying to make friends with me. They think my heating unit is dripping water on their windows below me, and they are mad. They come up here every day to complain. I try to sound sweet and contrite, but, in fact, I am not the guilty dripping party.
They send an apartment complex maintenance man to my house to prove to me that I am the problem. He comes to my apartment when the neighbors are not there. He says I am not the problem. See! I wish he would tell my neighbors, because they don’t believe me.
Every muscle in my body hurts. I would think I had the flu except (a) I had two different flu shots this season, and (b) I know I carried heavy stuff this week. I’m sore most all of the time when I am in this country.
I answered e-mails today, probably twenty of them.
And so there you have it, the day in the life of me.
Not a very good day, but a day nonetheless … in case you were wondering.
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