Dear Hubby, you are sick. I'm okay with that. It's all of -4 degrees outside at the moment, and you're in our bed, safe and warm and not lifting heavy things, breathing humidified air and drinking a Avocado/Banana smoothie.
Dear computer, How come it's so much more fun to check Pinterest and Facebook and Blogger than it is to work on online classes?
pile of dirty laundry, Stop looking at me like that. The washer and
dryer are in our bedroom, where my sick husband is sleeping. You'll have
to stay dirty a little longer.
I'm content right now
to sit on my couch, keep the curtains closed to the cold outside world,
and cut out quilt squares from Zeke's old, beat up coat. To smell the pot
of water, orange peel, and cinnamon I have simmering on the stove. To
forget about the dishes and just be for a little while. It's enough.