Saturday, November 28, 2009

36/ 415 pages

And so I sleep for a grand total of 5 hours before I woke to dry nasal passages and a fever like warmth to my entire body.  For the past few hours I've continued to read through Wuthering Heights and set up my VICKS humidifier.  Now the air in my room is moist and smells of eucalyptus.

What I wanted was for a soul to spoon soup or tea to me, pamper my dry flesh with a hydrating lotion, and comfort me as I drifted back to sleep.  Maybe not a real person.  Perhaps more of a ghost or some kind spirit that would tend to me as if I were bed ridden and then vanish once I was well.  Seeing as there is no one to do such things, I did them myself.  Opening my jar of Ponds lotion, I slathered it on my dry limbs, unsatisfied at the blue veins that peer at me through my white skin.  Feeling to lazy to steep a cup of tea, I downed a few butter cookies from the tin my mother gave me before the holiday, and now I return to my book and hopefully the province of sleep.

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