Cough cough...

Still sick. Poo.

Just a second ago I found myself staring into the sink with the water running, watching the Wal-tussin I had overpoured slowly wash away, it's stickiness no match for the cold rush of water. I couldn't look away, somehow, watching its feathery red shape leak away down the drain, giving up its hold on the basin. There was a moment when I thought, "It's not there anymore, I just THINK I see it because I've been staring." Like when you stare at the sunset too long and get that floating green stain embossed on your retina for a minute. But I was wrong, the stain was still there, just slowly, slowly washing away until it was thoroughly gone.

So mundane. So pretty.

And this morning when I looked in the mirror - yes, I actually looked - I noticed this ribbon, wide near my eye and tapering as it swept toward my ear, of what looked like lighter skin. Looking closer, it was a tear that had dried as I slept. Was I crying in my sleep? No, my eyes are probably just as runny as my nose at the moment, that's all. But I had one of those caught moments just then, looking myself in the eye and trying to see myself. I couldn't put it together - the bed-head, the tear, the bleary eyes, the open lips, reddened nose.

"Hi Jo," I said to myself (cuz I'm not crazy in the least), "Good morning."

Yes, maybe if you're polite to her everything will congeal and heal over.

Weird day. Cough cough. My body and the world feel even more foreign when I'm sick.