I am back from my trip to Paris and laid low by a chest cold. Oy! On Saturday I could feel it coming on. On Sunday I was ok. Monday, I was done. I thought I would be ok by Tuesday, but not at all. I just keep getting worse! It feels like I have the dread atypical pneumonia again. And I haven't even called my mother, who is officially angry at me. Don't ask how I know, it's too ugly to write about.
On the other hand, my dad, whose regular call I missed due to France, just kept calling. When we finally talked on Tuesday night, he told me I had to stay home (I sound terrible) and was delighted that I'd taken a last minute holiday to Paris for myself.
The trip went well. It was short but enough time...though I could have lived with getting into my hotel room earlier. I arrived around 8am and they told me to come back at noon. I went out for a French breakfast (croissant, bread, oj and coffee). I took a bus to a park I'd always meant to visit and somehow managed to stay awake. I had more coffee, soda, a sandwich and I survived.
I also had a good time with my friend, a lovely expensive lunch, a field trip to Reims and a tiny bit of clothing shopping and buying.
On the plane trip home, I sat next to a fellow knitter--fantastic. We chatted a bit and got along well, though it weirded me out to see that her meal consisted of a head of lettuce. Yes, she had a head of lettuce in a plastic bag and broke off leaves and ate them, along with bits and pieces of the meal that was served.
I have always been a fan of airplane food (I know), but now that it's so rare I enjoy it even more. When I take an international flight and I have the chance for free wine and a decent meal, I enjoy.
Anyway, it's good to be home, though not leaving the house for several days isn't what I had in mind.
Grateful for: easy international travel.