Yesterday was not my finest day. Monday night, really about 1 a.m. Tuesday, some sort of intestinal but attacked me and I got no sleep the rest of the night. Yesterday I wandered around like a zombie, though I did manage to change the bed and do a wash, take the garbage carts to the street, shower and wash my hair, and answer a few emails. But I kept going back to bed. when I was up, I thought I wanted to be down; when I was down, I thought I wanted to be up (down generally won). Went to bed at 5:30 last night, and except for brief upright periods, stayed there until 7:30 this morning. It's funny what a day like that does to you--kind of draws you into yourself so that you can't imgine ever feeling different or ever caring about what's going on in the larger world.
Today I am feeling much better (although my stomach hasn't quite gotten that message--I'm eating lots of yogurt and drinking ginger ale, the remedy from my childhood.) But I'm more on top of my world, dealing with office issues, writing a short piece, etc. My normal routine would have been to rush back to work but maybe age does bring a bit of wisdom. When I got up this morning, I thought, "No, I'll give myself one more day." And at 1:30 I have already had one nap and am about to take another.
Back to the world tomorrow.