Posted by: Shanna Germain | 06/08/2009

69: It’s Good to Be the Queen



Reduce speed now. That’s a law I’ve had no trouble abiding by lately. I’m moving, moving, rounding the bend, but it’s not happening very fast. The bug from the bug is slowly, slowly receding — more on that tomorrow — and I’m no longer exhausted by something as simple as the mere mention, hell at the mere thought, of taking a shower. It’s on odd thing for me to be moving this slow. I like going fast. I like walking and moving and being active. As I mentioned in the past, it’s good for my brain, for my body, for my writing. Not to mention, it’s probably good for those who are forced to spend time with me, since it’s kind of like taking your hyperactive dog to the beach — by the time I’m done chasing stones and waves and seagulls and you get me back in the car all sandy and wet, I’m going to sleep soundly for about twelve hours and leave you in peace.

Being slow in the body leaves time for reading — and I’ve been reading everything I can get my hands on. It leaves time for thinking, for evaluating, for mulling over story ideas and the future. It leaves times for naps (naps! and here I thought I’d broken that habit), as well as for a great deal of loud groaning and sighing that I’d really really like to go for a six-mile hike, but I know I should really just lay around and recoup. And best of all, it allows for the laundry to pile up, the recycling to fill its box, the non-necessary obligations to sit and wait.

A friend of mine once wrote this hysterical essay about why she loved being sick — it was the release from obligations, the funny ways that her husband and kids tried to take care of her, the lack of guilt over not doing the “supposed to” things. I can relate to that.

When I’m sick, I am high empress on my throne bed, picking through stacks of adoring paperbacks that are just waiting for my attention, gorging on salmon and berries and plain yogurt and .. hmm, and there the analogy breaks down, doesn’t it? Peeled antibiotic pills just aren’t the same as peeled grapes, no matter how you slice them.

Still, I’ll rule the universe of the Flat from the squishy confines of my bed, crowned with many pillows and a ring of gold (made of vitamin pills). And my first duty as ruler will be to write a decree against all ticks. But perhaps I’ll have another peeled pill and a wee nap first.

The Empress of Sickville, s.


“’There is no use trying, said Alice; one can’t believe impossible things.’

‘I dare say you haven’t had much practice, said the Queen. When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.’”

~Lewis Carroll


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