I’ve been sick for the past five days. You know that sick that’s so bad, your overworked spouse looks at you and says “Um. That’s okay hon. Just go back to bed. I’ve got things handled.” And backs slowly away from your germy self, like the germs are alien symbiotes that might leap from your infected body to his?
Yeah. That’s been me for the past few days.
I move so fast, and do so much, that doing practically nothing but rest and drink fluids and take medicine leaves me feeling weirder than probably the germs did. I’m feeling better physically today (although still not 100%), but my brain feels like Rip Van Winkle. Like I took a nap and missed 20 years. Or maybe Sleeping Beauty, since I’d look weird with a beard.
What happened while I was out?
Some work stuff happened. And except for one thing that really required my attention, it all went okay without me. Maybe not as smoothly as it would’ve if I could’ve helped, but the building didn’t set on fire without my presence.
I got the cover for Once Upon a Clockwork Tale. Which filled me with squee, even in my sick and addled state. Then a couple days later, I got the galleys and a new release date (June 1, 2013). More squee.
Mothers Day happened, and I mostly missed the actual day, being mostly unconscious for it.
I did go to Kings Island, which was a probably mistake in hindsight, but worth it for the bonding time I got with Maddy. We are at about the same level of “thrill preparedness” so we were ride buddies for the whole day. This is the first year she’s tall enough to ride basically anything in the park. We both rode Flight of Fear together for the first time. I think she screamed through the entire ride—and it’s a pretty long ride. But she told the teens in the car behind us she loved it after it was all over. And Josh got to bring the Girlfriend, which made him ecstatically happy. It was a wonderful day, despite the chilly temps and longer lines than we expected.
So, the walking pneumonia or whatever I ended up with was worth it.
The thing is, I missed a big chunk of my life before, in my twenties, because I was caught up in Drama. Not the theatrical arts (that would’ve at least been fun). Drama in the relational/emotional/psychological sense. Here’s the secret they don’t tell you on the soap operas and tv shows, kiddos: when you’re caught up in Drama, you’re missing your real life.
I mostly don’t do that anymore, and for that I’m immensely grateful. I’m still tempted to court Drama from time to time, but honestly? My real life has gotten so rich and interesting, it’s not really that appealing anymore.
Perhaps this is what growing up is like.