The dog and I went for our first walk since sometime last week, the last moment I was pretending like I wasn’t really sick. I’m still sick, though it’s much better.
I have a belief that there comes a point in any cold when you need to get up and get moving around. I don’t know if it’s true, but it’s my superstition that, at first, you need a lot of rest so that you body can focus on fighting whatever it is, but then, as you start to feel better, you need to start doing normal things to kind of bring systems back online and get them working again so that they can knock out whatever in your cold is left.
It was a slow walk, then, since I’m still not breathing 100%, but the dog seems happy with it.
Last night he figured out how to sit on the Butcher’s lap, which made me very happy. He had been noticeably thinking about something all evening and we were all–well, not the Butcher, who ended up with a hundred and twenty pound dog in his lap–pleased when his thoughts coalesced into action in the world.