Half dead

I had a perfectly horrible Monday, that's the truth of it.  It started off well.  I got my disabled daughter off to her day program and began my work.  Mid-morning the room started spinning. Or was it me whirling around?  My stomach rebelled.  I started whining.  

A friend offered to drive me to the ER but that seemed a bit extreme, although I took it under advisement in case things got worse.  I cancelled everything on my schedule and tucked myself into bed.  The bed swirled.  I did not find this amusing.  The dogs ran wild but eventually settled into a long snooze themselves, although I did notice that none of them wanted to jump up and be with me.

Four hours later my daughter called, waking me up.  Somewhat better, but not much, I relocated from the bed to the living room sofa and watched the Obamas visit the White House. The dogs looked at me imploringly, "Oh please, kind lady, please take us for a walk."  I could not. Nor could I read or draw or drive or cook or anything else that needed to be done.  I missed my hour with the boys at Juvenile Hall.  I missed my mixed media class and we're right in the middle of a project.

My daughter went out to dinner with a friend, but when she came home she suggested that maybe SHE should be taking care of ME.  I thought that was a great idea, but I wanted nothing except to feel better.  The Obamas kept walking into the White House, over and over again, until I grabbed the clicker and flipped off CNN, fed the dogs and took another nap.  Later I mixed up some instant mashed potatoes for my queasy stomach -- it was the blandest food I had on hand -- and forced myself to get well.  

Tuesday is a new day.  On Tuesday I will get my daughter to her program, clean house, draw and attend my grandson's birthday party.  I don't know what the Obamas have scheduled.