Put Droopy Dog and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer together and you get what I look like today.
Droopy the Red-Nosed Katie (Graphics brought to you by lack of proper graphic software.)
That's right, I feel like a walking snot bubble.
You know how you get sick and you drink so much 7up that it forms a strong bond with the excess of mucous that your body is producing and it covers your tongue in that disgusting film? Bleh. Yeah. I'm there.
I'm fighting my hardest, but I feel like I'm losing.
My house did NOT get cleaned yesterday. Wait, part of it did. But I fell incredibly short of earning the "Wonder Woman" title I so badly wanted. I got home at 3:20, ripped off my jeans, threw on my comfy shorts and made a cuddle appointment with Monsieur Le Couch. I was settling in for sweet sweet slumber when my phone rang and I got called back into work. (I'm one of those workaholics who can't say no.)
I finally dragged myself back to Monsieur Le Couch around 5:40 and I proceeded to be very lonely.
What is it about being sick that makes you such a weepy lonely mess? You're SICK! You should NOT have company! But at the same time, that's all I wanted. I could really do without the crying at the drop of a hat, but I really wanted someone to cuddle me.
I was all "Lord, I'm sick. I'm sad. I'm lonely. Does anyone care?" (PITY PARTY!!!) and that's when Cordy came bounding down the stairs and cuddled herself on my tummy. "Not exactly what I had in mind, but I'll take it."
The worst thing about being sick (to me) is going from "I'm going to die." to "Let's run a race!" in 5 minutes. Last night I was sooooo restless. Monsieur Le Couch was losing his appeal. I was this close to giving him the whole "It's not you. It's me." speech when I noticed it was probably time for me to take more meds and call it a night.
I took some Nyquil and went to bed. The problem with that idea is that when I lay down, my breathing becomes annoying to the 1,000th power. It sounds like a constant succession of sniffles and snores. The problem with THAT is that Cordy thinks I'm crying, so she feels the need to walk up my back and sniff around for my face so she can lick it.
I spent all night sounding like my Dad (sorry Dad, but your snoring IS epic...) with a dog curled up on my back. Attractive, right?
At least I got some good sleep, but the downside is that I had a dream about my ex. (Where was the phone call to wake me up from THAT one???) I haven't had a dream about him in months and this one was particularly vivid. Bleh.
I woke up annoyed and looking like Droopy Dog! (See above)
My eyes will NOT stop watering (unrelated to the dream) and I can't breathe with my mouth closed.
The sickness and the dream are just more examples of how I control nothing. (Which in the grand scheme of things is just fine with me. But the little things still get me sometimes.)
I can't tell you how many times in the last few weeks I've prayed "God, please let... No, wait. Your will, not mine. But could You? No. No. No. Your will. But... NO! I'm going to stop praying now. Could You take these feelings away? No. I want them. OH WHATEVER!!!"
(That may sound really sacreligious, but I'm just being honest.)
"We never understand what we're praying, and God, in His mercy, does not answer our prayers according to our understanding, but according to His wisdom." -Rich Mullins
I am immensely glad that I have a Father who loves me and is working on my behalf. Even if I can't see what He's doing and I don't know where He's going with it, everything is happening for a reason. Every little moment that I go through is adding up to a bigger, better picture. I just have to trust.
And trusting is the absolute hardest thing for me to do.
The. Absolute. Hardest.
"Let me hear Your lovingkindness in the morning;
For I trust in You;
Teach me the way in which I should walk;
For to You I lift up my soul." Psalm 143:8
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