crept in last night, stealing down from the mountains and across the plains. Covering the camp like a frostly blanket, it caught me unawares in the middle of the night. Awaking, nose cold and breath visible in the air, I started to sneeze. Not that I needed any incentive to cough and sneeze. This particular virus has been hanging around for several days, just to make me miserable.
My nice flannel sheets are in the laundry and the poncho liner substituting for a bottom sheet is slippery enough to have dumped my kleenex onto the dusty floor. Tripping as I untangle myself, I suddenly notice that it is a bit dark in the room with only the backlight provided by my laptop illuminating a small area.
Brain kicking in I think – ah, no power, no lights, no heat. Taking flashlight in hand from the night stand I stumble across boots, books and a chair to the door. Flipping the switch, the overhead lights come on as I am quietly grateful that Michelle is on R&R and won’t be disturbed by a flash of lights in her eyes.
The heat is not on. Thank goodness it starts back up with a reset. Sticking my nose out the door, the security light is on and our section of the compound is quiet. More sneezes as I crawl back in bed.
Several hours later, I give up, get up and head to work. Perhaps to spread the joy of my virus to everyone else but more likely to attempt to get some work done. My pillow is still calling me.