Flu

The haunted cadillac might have been the first flu symptom. Maybe. For sure I was pretty knocked out with flu symptoms by the end of the following day and am not feeling confident to get far from bed so far this morning.

And this week is Christmas. I am still not sure what that means this year. For most of the 36 years I have been married, Christmas has been the Mister and Missus Surname show. My only choice was whether or not to jump for the scheduled events. My training for that particular sport was/is so limited that I am still pretty clueless on how to run the course. In my own strictly personals, those same 30 odd years have coincided with much intensive therapy and the emergence of blocked memories of Christmas in the kiddie whorehouses. December turned into my therapy month around the same time that hubs and I officially separated for three years. The therapy has helped enough that perhaps I could learn a proper place in the Mister and Missus Surname show, but. . . Mister and Missus Surname are no longer available to teach and hubs and sons only know how to obey and armchair quarterback in this particular event.

With Mister Surname's passing and the dismissal of the employess who took Missus Surname's place in the event, it feels like a whole new sport with nothing but passive-aggressive players to take over as league director while awaiting the old plays to continue uninterrupted.

Hubs and I are texting as I type this. He began with saying he wants me home before the cold front hits today so that he can be sure I am recovering from my illness well. Sorry, love, but you are a much better tech manager than nurse. I can hire a caregiver myself if I need one. For now, I am fine nursing this flu bout for myself, as I always have.

When I told him it was Christmas, not the weather, which had me wondering if I should come back. . . Confusion rules. . . He sure looks like his Daddy these days. As always, I have no safe words to explain that and entirely too much word-free sensory data to let it be.

Small steps, big faith and lots of prayer. Holding the love sacred. I surely don't like him when he looks so much like his daddy. I surely don't want the style of nursing care his daddy gave his mama.