Sterilized & Suboptimal.

 It's been so long since I've been sick that I'd genuinely forgotten the particular brand of indignity it requires. 

My head feels like it's been stuffed with damp cotton balls. My nose is running a marathon I never up for. ANd my energy levels are currently orbiting somewhere near the Earth's crust.

It's an affront to my Capricorn Rising's need for order and Aries Sun's burning desire to be everywhere at once.

Naturally, instead of doing the sensible thing (rotting on the couch and letting my immune system do the heavy lifting), I decided that what my body really needed while under seige was a top-to-bottom deep-scrub spring cleaning. 

Plus... I had already reserved this weekend to do it. And I wasn't going to let this cold/flu stop me.

(Just remembered... I had my flu shot this season. Why the fuck am I sick?)

I don't know what kind of masochistic logic I was operating under. You'd think purging the dust bunnies and scrubbing all floors would make me feel like the high-functioning, in-control human I pretend to be. Instead, I'm sitting here in bed, surrounded by a house that is offensively clean, feeling entirely drained and weirdly exposed.

There's no dirt left to hide behind. It turns out that when you scrub away the physical clutter, you're just left with your own frazzled, feverish nerves. 

The only saving grace in this fever-dream of a weekend is that I managed to manifest the perfect chicken soup.

I don't know how. Maybe it was the sheer willpower of Pisces Mars trying to nurture itself through sheer spite (my all-time favorite reason to do anything)? Regardless, it was absolute perfection. 

And miracle of miracles, I could actually taste it! In a world of sensory deprivation, that soup was a defiant, flavorful middle finger to my cold. 

So here I am... Sparkling clean countertops, a belly full of liquid gold, and a brain that refuses to cooperate. 

I guess even a house that looks like a sanctuary can't keep the humanness out. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to stare at a wall until either I fall asleep or my body stops actuing like it's being held together by duct tape and audacity.