The weekend was grand. There are happy faces plastered on my calendar, but I guess I was premature in thinking that I was recovered enough from my cold to bust out.

Sunday at noon the coughing started again and today is pretty much a write-off (pun-intended). I cancelled my usual walking date this morning and have spent the day in bed. I never spend the day not moving like that. It’s a rather bizarre experience.

I got up at 2:30 pm just because I couldn’t stand myself any more, but now that I’ve been up for half an hour,  I’m seriously tempted to crawl back under those covers.

I’ve decided to reframe this whole flu/cold thing. Bascially, I’ve been “under the weather” since just after Christmas. That’s getting to be close to a month now. But it could be way, way worse. I was scheduled to be cycling in India right now. And I know for a fact that being sick anywhere that isn’t home, is a zillion times worse. So for that I am truly grateful.

The reason I canned the India trip was because I was accepted into the Humber writing program. The other reason I cancelled the trip is it suddenly seemed too daunting overall.

So. I’ve decided to view this whole sick thing as a way to really ground me into being home and accepting that there really is nothing else for me to do but write. Therefore, the aforementioned time in bed can simply be seen as incubation time for the whole writing process.

Yes. That’s it. If my life is a story-in-progress, than isn’t it up to me to create the viewpoint?