There is something that I haven’t yet indulged about our time away in Hobart over the last few days.
At one stage or another, we have ALL been sick.
Hubbie was the first. Or should I say, his nasally symptoms and hoarse throat, followed him interstate and over-seas.
Baby girl was second. On the day we were planning to go to the MONA museum, she began showing symptoms of an unwell state. Not eating. Lying down. Looking sleepy.
All of this right after waking up. This was not normal for her.
And though she was determined to jump onto the ferry, her symptoms overwhelmed her, and after falling asleep on a lounge at a MONA café after we walked all over the place, she then crashed even harder on the couch back at our accommodation.
I copped it today.
Or should I say, I progressed today. Because I have had the same annoying cough, incessantly beating its way up into my throat passages and forcing itself up, scratching my insides and thudding my lungs in the process, for about 3 weeks now.
I woke feeling weak, my throat was worse, and I felt absolutely wrecked and emotional.
It’s no surprise that we have all been sick, or been more worse off at one time or another, during this holiday out of all times.
We haven’t stopped. You know that phrase, you need a holiday from your holiday? That is totally US. Because we’re just go-go-go. We’re taking it all in, trying to sight-see and experience and involve ourselves in as much as Hobart and its surrounds has to offer.
All at the expense of our health. Because we have not had a chance to breathe.
Today we still went out and did things… but there was a distinct period in the late afternoon where we were just hanging out at our rental abode. We had deliberately cleared the schedule for this time, because it was needed, as much as the sight-seeing and walking and tours and driving and scenic lookouts were needed.
And then, after I cleared it with the boss –
I decided, I needed a bath.
The boss being, baby girl of course. I had to let her know where I was disappearing off to, because God help me if she didn’t know, she would walk around the place yelling “Mama!” and any serene water spell would be immediately disturbed and broken.
I put on my pouty lips and sad face when she first joked with me that I was not allowed to go. She wanted me, all to herself. I play-pretend cried, and suddenly my wish was granted.
I headed into the bathroom, filling up the water in the bathtub, at 4:30pm.
When I sat in the bath, I was just about submerged. I relaxed as the water enveloped me, tried to settle my mind, my thoughts, and my weary spirit, and breathed…
Hold on. It wasn’t at the perfect optimum temperature. I turned only the hot faucet on, watching the water trickle out slowly for a few more minutes.
I lay there all content and steamed up afterwards. Ahh, that’s better. Submerged in the extra heat of the water, I felt my skin tingling and blistering from the temperature, knowing that small clusters of red were forming all over my skin, creating the large framework of lobster that I endeavoured to look like every time I exited out of any shower/bath.
Because if I ain’t hot, well the shower/bath ain’t worth it.
Finally I was able to relax more. The bubbles which had been so in abundance when I first set in, dispersed into puddles of flat foam, swimming easily around the bath.
I closed my mind.
Drip drip drip.
The tap wasn’t turned off all the way, and the dropping of water interrupted my thoughts for only a moment.
My mind went to the past day, to where we were eating that night, to the next day, to our bird back at home… things I had to do, whether or not baby girl should go back to kinder on Monday… but at some point these rational thoughts ceased, replaced instead by things I had heard and seen in the last few days, street names and places, with characters I did not know, and it was all flowing together in swift disconnected cohesion, though none of it was actual reality.
My body, stilled.
I was starting to very lightly dream.
Drip drip drip.
The dripping of the tap brought me back to the present. I was here in this foreign bathtub, in another person’s bathroom, with sounds of Hubbie and baby girl floating on through from the rooms above me, while I lay there in the heat of the water, drifting away, in both physical and mental form.
I allowed my eyes to rest a few more times, but as the water began to cool, my eyes began to open more frequently. My body was now hot, the kind of hot that makes you all hazy and sleepy and cloudy in the head. I lay for ages, thinking how well they were doing without bothering me, until I heard Hubbie’s footsteps coming down the stairs. Then there was a knock on the door.
Since I had no time on me, I had asked him to tell me when 30 minutes was up. In fact, it was 5:20 – he had let me go way over.
I knew I had married him for a reason.
I was grateful for the time spent just being this afternoon. I was grateful that Hubbie had been kept busy with his extensive folk music collection online, and I was grateful that baby girl had been busy watching dolls on youtube.
Both of their ‘busy’s had allowed me to do NOTHING AT ALL. And it was exactly what the holiday ordered.
But the weird thing was, I could have done the exact same thing at home… and yet I had to fly 720 kilometres, just to be reminded of that fact.
Now I hope, I have reminded you too 🙂
Photo by Holger Link on Unsplash