A Weekend of No Significance

What happened yesterday and the day before was a blur. Fragments of my recollection include going to church and to a wedding on Sunday afternoon; the rest include pieces of views of my bedroom ceiling, juvenile television series and ordinary cartoons - which were about all I could handle. Why, you ask? I had the runs. I couldn't stay far from the loo, but that's not the point. There are things I supposed to do and could have done had I felt not so fatigued.

- A slight nausea bothered my appetite, so I couldn't eat although I felt hungry sometimes. "It's alright", husband said, "It's about time your body uses its reserves", while nodding at my chunky limbs.   

- My plan to go to Toko Setiabudi to get tubs of mascarpone cheese had to be aborted (no lemon tiramisu for now, people!). I offered to make tuna dip instead for a friend's birthday snack at the office on Monday. "Oh great", his wife said, "So we have something sweet and savory for that day", reminding that she'll bring a cheese cake for that occasion.

- I was trying to make myself useful (a.k.a. producing something other than that nasty toilet business), by carrying along my sketchbook-diary and gelpen wherever I went around the house. But I ended up only crashing horizontally wherever I parked myself, half-conscious and detached from my surroundings.
Dhanu (climbing up to the armrest of a rattan coach): Lindri, lay next to ibu so I can jump over both of you from this coach.
Lindri (taking her position as instructed): Oh, okay Dhanu.
Tita (totally oblivious to kids' stunts): ...


Never. Ever. Give in to such degrading disease. Again.