Motus Mentis

Well, whatever it was that hit me yesterday, I hope I never get it again. I left my Midtown office just after publishing yesterday’s post, shuffled the third of a mile to the F train at a pace roughly equal to that of an advancing glacier, made a supreme effort to get back up to the street from the platform in Brooklyn, up the block, up the stoop, and into my house, then shed my garments and toppled into bed. I spent the next twelve hours or so in a febrile twilight-zone, hacking and coughing painfully as my temperature inched upwards, but by dawn I seemed to have got past the worst of it, and now, fever broken, I am merely unable to sit or stand for more than a few minutes, due to a bone-deep exhaustion that I’m sure will pass before the weekend is over.

On the brighter side, at New Year’s I had resolved to lose some weight (I knew things were getting out of hand when I got on the scale at the drugstore and a card popped out saying “One at a time, please!!), and this little episode seems to have sheared away a remarkable six pounds.

My thanks to all of you who commented and wrote, and of course to my angel of mercy the lovely Nina, without whose selfless ministrations I must surely have passed beyond all mortal reach.