It has been ten days since I started to feel ill. I don’t want to write about the flu because the feelings are awful. Plus, I am so sick and tired of this flu already, and I get grumpy. Put it this way, I wouldn’t wish this flu upon any of my worst enemies.
When you have a lot of free time with nothing to do other than groaning and moaning in bed with the fever and cough, you would have no choice but to do lot of thinking. I did it, anyway, in and out of sleep. In fact, for a few days, I was so drugged out that I had hallucinations. Now, I am able to walk around a bit and stay awake for a longer period of time. It is about time for me to kill some time here.
Anyway, these are my grumpy thoughts from the sick bed. Please bear with me.
What is the spirit of Christmas?
The Spirit of Helping
Every year I take on the organization of a Christmas food drive for our school community. This year, instead of donating all the food to the food bank or Salvation Army, we packed them for some of our school families first. I am pretty sure that most of the food went to help the needy every year. Do the people who are at the receiving end feel happy about the baskets they have received? I don’t know the answer. I usually choose to be the collector of food, instead of the packer and deliverer of the baskets. I don’t know if I can handle the delivering to people I know. I know I would definitely cry when I get to the food bank or talk to the people there. I think I would rather remain anonymous.
***************************************************
I am a ghost from the past. I love Jane Austen, the Bronte Sisters, and Charles Dickens. The characters in Dickens’ books all seemed to live in a dark and dingy time period, in need of a big scrub in the tub. I wish I could fly back in time to see the past though. That was a romantic thought. However, the presence is really the past for those children of presence in the future. Does that sentence make any sense to you at all? Well, bear with me; I am sick, you know. I just mumbled. Anyway, talking about children, some children could make me nosebleed.