When I am sick there is nothing that sounds better to me than a bowl of matzo ball soup from The Bagel. We've moved out of the delivery boundaries so I either drag the children down with me (they love it, smiley face cookies at the front) or I beg the husband to pick up a pint on his way home. Clearly a nod to my Anglo/Irish Catholic upbringing, matzo ball soup is just the thing to chase the chill away. This is not the chicken soup Mimi made when I was a young sick person, this is the remedy I chose when I was an older and single sick person who could make a big bowl appear with one phone call. Now of course I am a much older and not at all single sick person who would love, just for a few hours to be single again.
But not in the woo woo I have no responsibilities dance on the table way but in the calling in sick, staying in pajamas and spending the day on the sofa with Law and Order reruns and matzo ball soup way. I'd light the fire, drag my comforter out from my bed and curl up with Eleanor Roosevelt for a marathon day of sneezing, sleeping and recuperating. I can think of no place I'd rather be when feeling lousy than in my own home.
Eventually all that rest would wear me out. In no time I'd be aching for a quick Dance Around the Room Like the Nutcracker, I'd start talking like Mary Poppins without being begged, or I would really need to color, but for a few hours, I could do it, I know I could.