I have been sitting on the couch for the past hour, eyes half-closed, my arms drooping heavy at my sides, wishing for some magic rush of energy that no amount of coffee could possibly supply. I've been on heavy amounts of Bendryl and anti-histamines since last night, and still couldn't breathe or sleep until early this morning. Last night The Cough was a seismic sort of coughing that rumbled and echoed through my chest. How can two small lungs possibly make that much sound? Gumbo wandered out around 2:00 to keep me company, gently resting his bony chin on my cheek.
When I woke up at noon, I felt useless. Heavy with antihistamines and still heaving, I managed to shower and even put on a bra, a pretense to accomplishment. Of course, I paired Success with once-baggy running pants, a small step above wearing pajamas out of the house.
"Haha! I have put on a bra! I will take on the world!
And I have also put on these old wedgie-inducing running pants! I will take on whichever part of the world comes to my house when I am not sleeping or hiding!"
Antihistamines trumped bra for today's level of motivation, and my pup and I watched the hours pass from the confines of the couch. Well, I watched time and he watched me, his face pressed against my laptop keyboard, waiting for signs of life.
"Where's your bone? Get your bone!" I'd muster up the energy to sound enthusiastic, and Gumbo would leap into action, as if to say, "Dear lord, you are RIGHT, I AM missing my bone!" and then pounce across the living room floor to get it.
Gumbo will thrust his ragged, chewed up scrap of bone onto my lap and I hurl it into the kitchen where he scampers off to fetch it.
I was an extreme athlete, and this is what is come down to: Couch Fetch.