Don't Speak

For six days I was at a loss for words.
Not by choice, mind you.

I arrived home from the States with a mild cold but was feeling much better after just a few days of sleeping in my own bed. Then some hateful germs found their way into my body and it all went downhill from there.

Last Thursday started out as a very exciting day. I left early that morning for Béziers to pick up my citizenship dossier from the sous-préfecture, complete with a letter from M. le Président, the words to la Marseillaise and an acte de naissance that would allow me to apply for both a carte d'identité and a French passport.
The meeting went smoothly and afterward I wandered around the city, window shopping and running a few errands before seeing friends for lunch.

The dry cough and headache began halfway through my savory chèvre and honey crêpe and continued for the next 24 hours until I was able to see the doctor. Diagnosis: bronchitis and a sinus infection.
lovely

The Pharmacie sent me home with a bag of goodies and the days of stubbornly accepting the fact that yes, you are sick so just deal with it already, began.


For five days I slept, wandered around the house in yoga pants and slippers, watched two seasons of the wickedly funny series Weeds, drank copious amounts of tea and juice, took my medication and guzzled cough syrup, then slept some more.

Then suddenly my appetite came back.
I still couldn't speak without fits of coughing, but I was hungry! Tuesday I whipped up a batch of spicy Thai Fried Rice for lunch and Wednesday I tried this recipe for Duck Breasts with le Puy Lentils. I even baked some focaccia bread one day.

I am officially on the mend! Finally.