Glutton for punishment

I have been sick FOREVER now. I am sick of being sick. So every other day when I am feeling 'better' I escape my house and go and try and do something. ANYTHING. Generally, my friends are happy to help. Horrible thing is, I tend to use up all the good that I had and the cold wins another day of my life. This ebb and flow is killing me. Wondering if I could ignore it..I ignore other things couldn't this work too? "No, I'm not coughing," "No, I am not throwing up." "No, I am not clamy or running a fever." "No no, I don't need to blow my nose." I am sure if I say it, others will buy it, the sickness will get tired of being ignored and it will go away! Its a brilliant plan really. I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner.

Caroline is thinking that the world is weird. Ok, mainly her little world. Friday, while laying and trying to recover enough to go to work the next day, her mind wandered...and it has yet to come back to reality. Ok, her mind is in reality, but it keeps visiting dead subjects and ideas. Things that have been let go of. Things that need to stay where they were. But for three days now she has been dwelling. She can't figure it out. She's afraid to tell people because its so ludicrise! She is thinking that she needs to find a new way of letting go and that she needs to not try and alter what was in the past to fit what is now in the present. bah!
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The gardener happened upon
A walking path
That on its own seemed to thrive
It welcomed everyone in and shared
All it had
The gardener was intriged
With time the path welcomed
The gardener more then other visitors
The gardener helped the path to grow bigger
The walking path that had been
So beautiful before, felt the guiding hand
And was able to share so much more
With the other visitors that came to see
Then one day the gardener passed
A small private garden
The gardener was mesmerized by the beauty
Not much was needed in this private garden
Seeming so simple and whole
The gardener abandoned work on the walking path
To spend time in the private garden
The walking path will always be there after all
The private garden became a sense of pride
And joy for the gardener to share
The walking path began to show the absence
Of the gardener, unpruned branches and flowers
Crowded on the foot trails
And slowly the walking path returned
To the natural way it had been before