down for the count

ENTRY # 1675 The blue anteater, the white monkey and gold raccoon sit on my chest poking me.

“See, I told you she was stuck.”

I try to lift my arm. Its too hot. I cant move it. The blanket is too heavy.

“See, I told you,” the raccoon says.

I am thinking that if they would just get off my chest, then maybe I could do something. The boarder offers me juice and some ibuprofen.

The monkey moves down to my knee nudges it to see if it will move of its own accord. It does not.

“Shes broken.”

I spent the night on the couch. Just parked there and didnt get up again. The boarder covered me in blankets. And when I couldnt get warm, covered me with some more. Wierd dreams and fever. The juice and ibuprofen part is for real. The boarder says I dont take to being taken care of very well. Just kept shaking my head no to every offer of caretaking and lying down again. I was certain that the animals were my sons.

The boarder asks, “Which was which?” They werent any of MY sons. They were just my sons. In dreams that makes perfect sense. I feel better. Still groggy and disoriental. But the forced fever (sleeping with three blankets, hoodie and flannel jammies) put a dent in this thing. No wonder I couldnt lift my arm.

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