I called a friend the other day and she told me she’s been sick for two weeks.
“What a shame,” I said, but she admitted part of her was enjoying it:
"I’ve been playing lots of Scrabble and bingeing on Netflix.”
This reminded me of the days of being sick as a kid. Sure, the barfing and chills sucked, but mostly I remember curling up under the covers, being allowed to watch t.v. all day, falling in and out of sleep, and waking up to my mom touching my forehead and then placing a tray of steaming Campbell’s Chicken Noodle soup and Saltines on my lap.
It seems as adults we’ve forgotten how to surrender to rest and recuperation when we need it. Why do we need to catch a bug, break a bone, get a scary diagnosis, or go through a surgery to finally allow ourselves to slow down – or to stop?
I know, I know, you have to earn a living, you have to get the kids to soccer practice, you have to call the plumber and go food shopping. But what if you let yourself sleep as late as you wanted one Sunday morning or said “no” to that dinner party you really don’t want to go to? What if you stayed in your p.j.s all day just because you can?
I wonder what would happen.