I’m sick.

Nothing serious ( I assume). I’ve got a temperature, I’m achy and woozey.

My ex used to insist ‘Woozy – that’s not a word. It’s not a word.’ Now, of course, I could whip out my smartphone and prove it is but that was in the days when you didn’t carry a dictionary around in your pocket.

Anyway, I started feeling sick yesterday morning and I’m at Smitty’s so she babied me, went out to get me chicken soup from the Polish bakery and we sat around watching Star Trek reruns all day.

Him Mudd. Note the expensive set.

Season Two: Spock’s wedding, Tribbles, ‘I Mudd’ and several episodes I didn’t remember, maybe because they were so inane I blotted them from memory. Star Trek has this weird ability to be bad and compelling at the same time. The stories have some thought behind them even while you’re laughing at the amazingly bad costumes or the $10 space station hanging in front of a black sheet (the shots of the space station in ‘Tribbles’ really look like an Ed Wood out-take). And Then. There’s. Shatner’s……..acting.

Anyway, we lounged on Smitty’s couch with seven hundred pillows and blankets and ate and IMDB’d every episode to read the trivia and generally just let the time pass instead of pushing the cart uphill like usual. My being sick freed us both to relax, allowed us to just enjoy being together.

Of course, now it’s the next morning, I’m still feeling woozy and she reported feeling not so great just before we went to bed. And, in the back of my mind, a nagging voice keeps reminding me that Neil Young wrote ‘Down by the River,’ ‘Cowgirl In the Sand’ and ‘Cinnamon Girl’ on the same day with 103 fever. So today might not be as serene as yesterday. 

But yesterday was pretty damn wonderful.