If not for Molly, I would sleep all day. She begins to bother me at around nine in the morning, licking my face and hitting me with her paws that have sharp toenails. I pet her for a while, then turn over, away from her, to sleep again. After a short while, she jumps up, licking and pawing me and again I pet her belly for a while before turning over. Sometimes, she lets me sleep for an hour, sometimes, only a few minutes. Today, she became relentless at 11:30, and wouldn’t let me alone even for a minute. So up I get. Out of bed and downstairs in my nightclothes, to heat up a cup of coffee brewed yesterday. I sit outside on the terrace, in the sunshine, warmer than inside, and drink my coffee and smoke a cigarette, yawning and checking my facebook comments and wordpress comments and email and then I want to go back into my bed, but I don’t because it’s the middle of the day. Cat comes in the house to eat and sleep on my sofa, and Molly begs for her biscuits, three each morning, two more than the box suggests. I can hear my neighbor talking to her son. It’s quiet outside, and mild, with somewhat overcast skies and a gentle breeze. A few cars pass by on the road. Birds are singing in the overhanging bougainvillea which has finally lost every last one of its leaves and blossoms. The dirty dishes have piled up in the sink and spilled over onto the counters. It’s time to take things in hand and tidy up my home. But I have no energy. What would happen if I stayed in bed all day? Nothing, except I would have trouble getting to sleep tonight.
I’ve had low energy since returning from my visit to NYC last week, still suffering from that dratted cold I caught while there. I’ve wondered whether it’s merely my age, depression, the lingering winter weather, or what? My friend reminded me that I have been ill, and perhaps I’m still recovering. That’s reassuring. I hate to think that I’m losing my stamina to age. Or depression. But I am so fatigued. I barely get out of bed and want to crawl back under the covers again. And those covers are ever so inviting, a thick mass of goose feathers that enclose and cuddle me. I love the weight of the feathers and love the warmth on these damp, slightly chilly days. Still, the weather is mild and I should be out and about, walking in the countryside and enjoying the spring flora. But when I walk, only ten minutes out, I want to stop and sit on a wall or lay down in the green meadows. I am tired. I don’t feel sick, just tired.
When I was in Athens on the final leg of my return trip to Paros, I was deep in the worst of the cold’s symptoms, chills, wracking coughs, sneezing, and fatigue. My mind traveled to dark places and I thought seriously that this might be my last winter on Paros, that I preferred the comfort of my home in Wisconsin where I know the language and can navigate the healthcare system on my own. A few days later, I awoke in my bed in Ambelas and felt so much better, the thoughts of returning to Wisconsin seemed laughable. But the thoughts still linger. Who wants to be infirm and alone in a foreign country where the language remains unintelligible to me, notwithstanding twice-weekly Greek language lessons?
Today was beautiful weather and yet I spent most of it in bed again. I’m concerned that I’ll be awake all night and unable to function tomorrow, and there are things I want to do in the morning. So far, sleeping during the day hasn’t impaired my ability to get to sleep at night, so my body must have needed the rest. But I don’t feel sick anymore, so I wonder about the consequences of too much daytime sleep.
This isn’t much of a story or blog post. I wonder if I’ll bother to post it, but I’m late getting my weekly, and only my second weekly, post written. I continue to write most every day, but believe me, you don’t want to read what I’ve been writing. I do want to keep my commitment, to post a new blog each week, but what if I haven’t anything to say?