We all have our achilles heel, and here’s mine: I tend to get sick easily after exhausting myself, particularly when organizing any big events. It’s gotten to the point where I actually try to plan down time after such events so I can lie in bed, mildly hallucinating, and berating myself for doing too much. In the happy event, I don’t get sick, there’s delights, yoga, friends and other amusements to celebrate.
This time the “don’t get sick” option didn’t fly, and so here I am in my pajamas sick as a dog. I realize as I wait for the bath to fill that one of the reasons I seem to pick up little viruses so easily when run down isn’t just because I’m run down. It’s because at such big events, I hug many people….. repeatedly. I hug old friends. I hug strangers. I hug new acquaintances. I hug presenters who arrive travel-weary and blown away to be in Kansas. I hug my husband. I hug my cat. I hug people in parking lots, entry ways, auditoriums, galleries and grocery stores.
I could hang back, wear a little white mask, lean away when others lean forward, but what would be the point? Sometimes there’s just no cure for happiness and that yearning to connect no matter what invisible travelers pass from someone else to my happy but too-tired-to-fight immune system. So a few days after, when the who-knows-what stomach-sinus-head dealie lands, I lay low. And I don’t regret a single hug.