The very best thing about last week? Gruel.
Let me explain. Friday was Christmas. On Saturday, after long and careful thought, I said aloud, "I think I'm coming down with something." Sunday, the illness was a minor irritation until that night when everything fell in on me. Monday, my biggest accomplishment was eating a piece of toast.
Then on Tuesday, I started getting better. So much better that I was capable of eating gruel. Dear God, you have no idea how delicious gruel can be when you've had all of two slices of toast over the past day-and-a-half. I ate an entire mug of it in one sitting. Feeling like one of the Saints feasting in Heaven: simple, joyful, grateful.
Wednesday I was able to go around the corner to the post office. I came home dizzy and triumphant and collapsed on the couch for an hour and slept. Thursday, I was able to write again -- only a brief book review, but the first thing I'd written since falling ill. And today, I'm going to visit Gardner Dozois and Susan Casper briefly.
So the entire week has been a process of things just getting better and better. You can see where it's been a good one for me.
But, oh man, that gruel! Wonderful stuff. I'll treasure the memory of that first cup forever.
Above: A snapshot of me in the tub, taken by Marianne, showing how much better I am now. I shaved for the occasion.