Flowers! (Or, should I be sick more often?)

I've been sleeping a lot. Drowsing, too. I'm enjoying it, because normally after 5 or 6 hours in bed, my body yells "get up!" and I cannot stand laying in bed any longer--even if my brain is still tired. But this being sick thing, well, I can't seem to get enough of being horizontal. It is so nice to drowse and slide my legs against the sheets and snuggle up to my pillow and just be. And laying in bed seems to be the only way my muscles don't ache a lot, which guarantees I'm in it.

My roomie made me a big pot of stew, and I woke up from a nap hungry for some. I'd nuked a bowl filled with three ladles of the stuff and was dipping a piece for french bread into it when the doorbell rang. I almost ignored it, as I was a mess--still wearing my white nightie with the rubber duckies on it, my hair uncombed--but I answered it anyway. And lo! It was the florist, with a huge vase of flowers. I've put them on my desk, where I can see them from bed, as the enclosed card said "...to bring beauty into your room and making you stay in bed." How'd I get so lucky to be so loved? How silly that getting flowers makes me want to hug myself and bounce with joy. They are so beautiful...