We moved the sofa under the window. We like the way it looks, though it isn’t the ideal spot for watching tv. And where the sofa once was, so sits my desk. A tiny, thriftstore scrap of a thing beneath three behemoth pictures of good looks but little meaning. I bought them when I was practicing, and they remind me of who I once was: safe, nondescript, and able to fit in anywhere. Living room, waiting room, everything the same. That is why I want to get rid of them. Or maybe I want to get rid of them because I’m still the same person, and that bothers me. I haven’t yet decided.
Our Thanksgiving week started off well with a Monday full of movies and golf ranges and meals out as a family. But shortly after Tuesday started, so did Nicholas’s stomach flu.
It’s been here ever since.
He wakes up in the middle of the night, this morning at 3:30, and grabs the bowl by the side of his bed to get rid of whatever it is he is harboring. All by himself! We are proud, congratulatory even, at 3:30 in the morning. Such a big boy, that’s something a seven year old would do, we say as we finger comb his hair and rub his back. And while we know no one will ever compare him to Pollack for grabbing the bowl on his own, we are happy he does. It helps.
We moved the desk under the pictures. We like the way it looks, though it isn’t ideal for writing. I still can’t tell who might sneak up on me. And where the desk once was, so sits the armchair. I now have a lovely reading nook, one I took advantage of this week of roiling tummies. I read three books from my unread library. Three, which is also the number of times Nicholas tricked us into thinking he was better. Hardly a coincidence, I say.
I learned two things this week. (1) Hotdogs always precede a bout of stomach flu in our house. Always. Related: food that looks the same after consumption, digestion, regurgitation, and a 16 minute heavy duty wash in hot isn’t really food. (2) You can read three books of literature in one week, but you can’t follow it up with a romance novel about a circus performer who may or may not be the great grandson of Alexei Romanov. It will go down as smoothly as a basket of hotdogs.
We have also had the stomach flu in the house for a week. I will spare you the details. I have mixed Clorox and water in a spray bottle and I’m pretty sure I’ve gone over every surface of my home three times.
I hope he feels better soon.
And I’m never eating another hotdog ever again.
Neither am I, Zakary. Neither am I.
Hmmm, I’m horrible at remembering exact plots, but please, please tell me that the romance novel wasn’t The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern! I loved that book and can’t quite bear to associate it with regurgitated hot dogs.
Kiss an Angel by Susan Elizabeth Phillips. Not her best.
I’m reading The Night Circus right now, and I love, love, love it! So magical . . . just, you know, an fyi . . .
poor Nicholas! but, i have to say— there is something so comforting about the photo.
Nothing about you seems nondescript!You are SO descript!!
Hah! Thank you. :)
Poor little man . . . I hope he’s feeling better soon. Soon, as in, today!
Fingers crossed! He slept through the night without vomiting and it’s 7:30 right now…and he’s still asleep!
Ugh, all three of us had the stomach crud about six weeks ago. It lasted for a full week and I was the “well-est” sick person in the house so I had to take care of the others. I hope that Nicholas is the only one to catch it and that he feels better soon!
So, Kiss an Angel is not recommended? I have a wierd fascination with the Romanovs, so might be interested in it depending on how much it plays into the plot. Although I’m pretty convinced that none of them had any great grandchildren.
I recommend picking up Nicholas and Alexandra if that sort of history interests you. But I have to warn you that it doesn’t end well for the Romanovs :)
Oh, no. Definitely not a major plot point. If you’re obsessed with Russian Czar history, that’s not the book to read.