|My coffee may as well be made of yarn, like my|
double knit pot holder pictured here.
I have, like so many others in my local area, had the misfortune to contract the worst cold/sinus infection/bronchitis in ages. I work in healthcare; I wash my hands constantly; I change out of my scrubs after working with the public all day; I wipe down my work areas with hospital grade disinfectant that would take out even the most stubborn tuberculosis spores. And I still got it. The Cold. And I don't mind so much, in a way: the painful, constant coughing; the headache from it; the annoying-as-crap inability to get out of bed; the body aches that constantly scream for a heating pad. But it took away my coffee. And that is unacceptable.
After about a week of no taste/no smell, I had the most vivid dream. It was a cup of coffee. The best one I'd ever had. It was the sort of cup that made me question if this cup was some special recipe I had accidentally concocted. It made me wonder if I should start measuring the grounds in grams or use a special sort of water. In the dream, I decided that it didn't matter how the coffee came into being, it just was. And it made The Cold just a little bit more bearable -- for a while.
That memory of the dream fantasy -- the perfect heat of the drink, the perfect sweetness, the perfect tackiness on the tongue, the perfect creamy texture -- is fading now. It has been another week. And I sit here facing a cup that I cannot detect. It is like having face blindness, but to food. I look at the stranger on my desk and wonder, when?? When will we get to know each other again?
If we were discussing my romantic endeavors, you would all think me the most pathetic person in the world; living in a memory of a fantasy! How sad! I guess I can just be glad that, in this case, each day brings a tiny bit back, though often it is almost imperceptable. I think I can tell the sweetness. I think I can smell it if I just bring it really close to my nose. I think that drink was a better one than the last. In time, it will all come. Not like princes, who sometimes don't.
Yes, eventually all will be right with the world. And we always have knitting.
|Another test knit for Gabrielle Danskknit! I bet you can guess what|