Saturday, November 16, 2013

Chicken Soup and Just So

It is a perverse world, when we think we are fortunate when we get sick on the weekend so we will not miss work. 

Wheeze, wheeze, gees Louise!
Susan Louise has gotta sneeze.

Thursday night her airways were sounding submerged and listening to her breathe sounded like I was eves dropping on some grindylows.  She muddled through Friday at home, her normal day off, but by Saturday I could tell she needed big medicine.

This is what works; I cooked and served her breakfast in bed with a large helping of bacon.  Recent studies from the Journal of Wishful Thinking prove bacon has curative effect for those suffering with clogged sinuses. Another study from the Danish Journal of Downer Diagnostics purports to show that 9.71 seconds are removed from one's life span for every strip of bacon that is consumed.  This hypothesis can be patently proved as false by calculations from my own life which would indicate that I would have died in March of 1792 if it were actually true.

For good measure and more big medicine, I cooked a pot of Thai lemon mint chicken soup for consumption during the rest of the day.  And when it was time to sleep, she tucked in under the covers and I read to her selected Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling.  She selected the The Sing-Song of Old Man Kangaroo, the tale of how the yellow dingo dog helped give Mr. Kangaroo his large hind hopping legs.  She was asleep by end of the tale.

When she awoke the next day, Oh best beloved, all was better.

Oh, chicken soup and bed-time tales are the best medicine. And they make the world a little less perverse. It is just so, best beloved.

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