I watched the second half of the documentary on Robert Fowler last night - the UN ambassador who was held prisoner by Al Quada for nine months. He talked about being allowed to call home and hearing his own voice on his family's answering machine. He laughed and said he left a message for his wife. How odd would that feel to leave the message and receive it? When his wife wasn't home, he was permitted to text her. Hearing this cracked me up. Imagine being held captive in some remote dessert and being allowed to text? It seems contradictory. Robert Fowler discussed telling his wife that he probably wouldn't make it home alive and how she convinced him that he must. People we love talk us through our darkest hours. I was happy Robert Fowler survived to tell about his ordeal. He mentioned sending his wife an "SMS." Is this the same as a text message? I'm not very technologically savvy.
I am freezing. There are huge goosebumps creeping up my arms. The hairs on my arms are sticking straight up. I have some funky chill action going on. I think there must be some heavy duty air conditioning turned on. If not, I have some serious issues with my internal thermostat. Being cold makes it hard to focus on much of anything...chills are distracting.
I could be cold because I am wearing another sleeveless top and Capri pants. Making the most of my summer wardrobe sounds like a smart idea, but it doesn't feel smart when doing so involves freezing. The weather was gorgeous again today, but I probably would have enjoyed it more had I worn heavier clothing. Another reason that I could be cold is because I have loaded up on laxatives these last few days. Thankfully, I finally had success today. I broke out the Kleen Prep and purple Kool-aid yesterday and today. I thought it would work by only drinking one liter yesterday, but I didn't get any results. I suppose doctors give instructions for reasons. I feel bad for taking futile dosages of medication, but all I can do is learn from my mistake and move on.
Trying to drink the two liters this morning proved difficult. After the first liter, I started to feel queasy. I had a sweet attendant who stayed in my apartment and cheered me on. I don't think I could have drank all the Kleen Prep without the encouragement of my attendant. Sometimes all we need is someone to believe in us. I hope my attendant knows how much I appreciated her compassion. I said "Thank you," but it didn't seem like enough. The next attendant who came to my rescue was just as sweet. I lucked out...Unfortunately, I was soon reminded that not all attendants are top notch. Last year I reported one attendant for being lazy and rude. While her conduct and work ethic did improve, the attendant gave me the silent treatment for five months. My punishment for reporting her was not having to listen to her. The same attendant is being investigated for poor conduct again. She is slipping back into her old ways, so I am glad her boss is onto her. Maybe I'll have four more months of silent treatment. Night-time will be quiet.
I went to market today. After my yucky morning, I needed to get out there in the land of regular, healthy people. I bought a new kind of mustard from a famous store for me. It's fig flavoured. I bet it would taste yummy with fish or ham. For myself, I bought two red peppers, one yellow, and one orange. My fridge looks colourful now. Colour makes me happy...so does a healthy dose of bell pepper. I have only felt like toast today, but hopefully I'll be in pepper spirits tomorrow...