Charles Schultz was right. 

They   Happiness is a warm puppy.

Saturday, I got up and went to the Pro-Am at our bridge club.  They assigned me a nice guy named Sam, to whom I gave a dreadfully poor performance. While this may just be because I’m not very good, there is also the reality that I was sick and when I get sick I get slow and stupid.  Sorry, Sam.  I owe you a game.

Coming home, I promptly took a nap for three hours.  We had a big event planned for the evening, and I prevailed on Toby to be his mother’s date and take over hosting for me, then went right back to a semi-comatose position in my recliner.

That’s when I figured out that a warm dog on my chest seemed to help the congestion, so that’s where she stayed for the next couple of hours.  Turns out that dog on chest is good for your mood, too.  I was very calm and relaxed, even while wracked with coughing.

A solid evening of lying inert, with so little energy that I could eat, or watch TV, but not both at one time, led to a long nights sleep also thanks to the Box Spring.

Today I felt better.  Not good, but better.  Had the energy to go to the movies with Gail and see La La Land before the Oscars. I’ll write about that in another post, this one is dedicated to the my living hot pad, Claudia.


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