By SUSAN DROMEY HEETER, Joyful Musings

Last week I returned from Key West with a new baseball hat and the flu. The hat is cornflower blue, originates from the restaurant Blue Heaven and the flu is dressed in Lily Pulitzer, has a gorgeous tan and sports a big pink coral necklace.

The flu has also stayed well past her welcome and simply refuses to leave. So, today, dear Joyful Musers, I write from my sick bed with the guest who has overstayed her welcome. The box of Kleenex waves from my nightstand and I simply accept that I am sick. Sick. Sick.

Screens have a bad reputation but during my convalescence, Words with Friends and JFK Jr. are getting me through. Just yesterday I watched the series Love Story about Carolyn Bessette and JFK.  They are both so incredibly gorgeous, so delightfully young – and with the backdrop of NYC and Martha’s Vineyard, I forget that it’s February. In New Hampshire. In contrast to Carolyn’s fabulous black dresses, I am wearing GAP pajama bottoms and a Crane’s Beach t-shirt that have been my attire for days now; my fashion is all about comfort. I’ve got out with the dog but that’s about it. This flu has me down and out – but comfortable and entertained.

My cuisine involves chicken noodle soup and ginger ale.  My bones ache but it’s something of a relief to be all in with sickness – none of this “pushing through” nonsense that only spreads germs and ego.  I surrender. I nap. I watch a documentary on John John before he was the Sexiest Man Alive. I embrace the view of winter, grateful I have memories of swimming just last week in the southern most part of the continental US, riding my bike by Ernest Hemingway’s house, eating blueberry pancakes al fresco.

So, Joyful Musers, if you are down and out, well, simply embrace the fatigue, the drippy nose, the February of life. This too shall pass and if it has for you, celebrate. Stay hydrated, keep up with your Vitamin C and do watch Love Story – if only for the impossibly good looks. And if your flu is overstaying her welcome, do know, she’ll leave in time…albeit pasty and flanneled but, well, in time. She’ll go. 

Susan Dromey Heeter writes from Newmarket and often from the road where she joyfully muses on life in the fast and slow lanes. She drives a stick shift, can also ride a unicycle and recently retired after 30+ years of teaching. Dromey Heeter finds joy primarily in Milk Duds and people who make her laugh, not necessarily in that order.  Follow Susan @dromeyheeter on Instagram and/or @BudgetVogue63.  She can also be reached at dromeyheeter@gmail.com.