Oh, the thrilling life of two middle-aged civil servants. R Man woke up this morning sick, I think with the flu. Spiking fever, shaking with chills so hard the bed vibrated, and felling yucky. I made tea and toast, fussed over him all morning, held him while he shook, and then went out to lunch with John and Dan. See ya sweetie, try not to die. In my defense, R Man insisted I go. Besides, we were going to Foreign Cinema and I didn’t want to miss out on that.
Lunch, errands, back home to find the sick boy downstairs lounging on the couch, which was fine until he tried to stand up and collapsed. I think it was a combination of his blood pressure meds and the flu, but I heard a big thud and came down to find him on the floor, slumped against the wall. He was unconscious and unresponsive, even when I shook him and called his name. I finally slapped him (not hard, don’t be silly) and he sort of woke up. I felt just like Bette Davis in some early Warner Brothers weepie. He doesn’t remember getting up or falling down, but now he’s back on the couch with very firm orders not to get up without me.
Plus, tonight is the big fireworks show down on the bay that KFOG, a local radio station, puts on every year.The far side of the canyon blocks our view, but we can hear all the explosions, as can all the dogs in the canyon who are howling like mad and Saki, our cat, who is completely freaked out. I’m putting Saki and R Man to bed and then I’m going to go pull the covers over my head.