Couldn't breathe.
One of my darling piano students was coughing and sneezing during her lesson...and she gave it not only to yours truly -- but the Brick, as well.
Since then, we've both been pestered with fever, achiness and LOTS of congestion. Fortunately, I didn't have any client appointments or gigs until late next week. So we've split the chores -- whoever feels the most ambulant at the moment gets to stagger out and take care of the chickens. We also have bunny duty -- our friends down the street are out of town for another week, and they need us to care for the 'buns.' Sometimes we alternate -- the Brick for chicks, me for the buns, or vice versa.
Then we trudge home and collapse.
I spent part of last night sleeping in a chair, so I could breathe a little easier. (Shades of Queen Elizabeth, who tends to sleep upright, from what I'm told.) It's a little better today -- but not much.
The house has piles here and there, of clean clothes, groceries, etc. The dogs have started their spring shedding, so we've been brushing them regularly. But the rugs still get their share. Whatever's absolutely critical gets taken care of -- the rest can wait.
We've been eating out of the freezer a lot, warming up canned soup...and watching Route 66.
Unlike Man in A Suitcase (which was a bust), this early 60s show has been a lot of fun. Two twenty-somethings, driving a Corvette left to one by his dad (the only thing he inherited, according to him), prowl the country, picking up work where they can, and rescuing all sorts of guys and damsels in distress. (Smooching some of the latter, too.)
One is a clean-cut, former Harvard type. (Martin Milner) The other has been fighting all his life, since the Foundlings Home in Hell's Kitchen. (George Maharis) They get into all sorts of scrapes and funny situations along the way. And wherever they go, people tell them their life stories -- including their troubles. Sometimes the guys can help; sometimes they can't.
That would seem unreal -- but when the Brick and I spent the summer of 1984 on a motorcycle, traveling the country, we had exactly the same thing happen. Total strangers would offer us places to stay, help...and tell us all about their world, including their problems.
Route 66 doesn't always have a happy ending. Maybe that's one of its strengths.
It isn't always very kind regarding women -- the female sex is mostly there to act helpless, sexy or confused. (Guess you can't have everything.)
It hardly ever uses places along the actual Route 66. (Which we traveled by motorcycle...mostly hot, deserted and dusty.)
The Chevy Corvette seems spotless, in spite of heavy travel and use. (Which makes sense -- Chevrolet was the series' sponsor, and replaced the car every 3000 miles or so.)
But it does take advantage of some of the best character actors in the business, including Robert Duvall, E.G. Marshall and a surprising favorite, whose face we recognized, if not his name: John Larch. (The music's generally wonderful, too.)
And for people who like to travel, it works hard at presenting what 'everyday' life is like in all sorts of faraway places. So far, we've picked hops in Oregon (logged wood there, too), been roustabouts on an oil rig in Louisiana (right after we crewed on a shrimp boat, that is), fixed a well in Kanab, Utah during a duststorm (I thought they were singularly unfair, there -- didn't really show the beauty of the area). We also helped build the Glen Canyon Dam,...and had the bejeebers scared out of us by a creepy town run by a Nazi-hater. (That was the first episode, led by redneck George Kennedy. What a way to start a series.)
It's given us something more interesting to focus on, besides being sick.
P.S. The first daffodil bloomed this morning in Castle Rock, CO -- right on schedule. I need to get peas in by St. Patrick's Day.
No comments:
Post a Comment