So yeah, my boss just walked up behind me while I was perusing the net, reading up on the latest news, and asked if I was keeping up with the Avian Flu.
To be honest, I don’t. I don’t listen to news casts about it, I don’t read about it, I don’t seek out information about it because there’s nothing I can do about it either way. I can’t stop it from coming here, which it either will or won’t only time will tell, and I can’t magically produce a cure by worrying myself each time a bird flies overhead. I’m happier not knowing the details of what might or might not happen.
He didn’t seem to agree with me and spent, oh, maybe 20 minutes or so laying out the “new policies” we’ll implement if the flu comes to America. Including, but certainly not limited to, my wearing gloves to open mail, mandatory facemasks at all time, most everyone except myself, him and one other person working outside the office and the lunch room being closed down indefinitely, to avoid cross contamination. Then he cheerfully told me he’d ordered the gloves and facemasks today. By the time he’d finished I was sick to my stomach, all anxious and worried about something that I can’t change. Grrr.
In other news, yesterday was my first session with my brand new therapist. She’s nice, funny and very frank. I like her a lot and I can already tell that she’s going to be a big help to me. When I told her I knit she encouraged me to bring knitting to the sessions if I thought it would help in any way. So I’m thinking I might just bring yarn and needles and just knit, a little or a lot, and at the end of the session cast off and toss it in a box. At the end of a few months (I’ll be going every week for a while) I’ll stitch the bits together and see what I have. It’ll be a mural of healing.
The sunburn is, I think, getting worse rather then better. You know that point in which the skin is stiffening up, getting ready to peel or whatever, where moving the offending limbs cause great pain? Yeah, that’s where I am right now. And it’s on my arms, so it’s not much fun to dress myself, brush my hair, move in general. Shaving my pits was torture, I nearly cried while I was holding my arm over my head. But I’m hoping this is the ‘needs to get worse before it can get better’ type of situation and that means it’s getting better soon.
Let this be a lesson to you all! Don’t go to a barbeque in a tank top and sit outside in direct sunlight from 12 until 9:30 and go “Pish” when people warn you that you’re looking a little roasted.