The phrase "touched out" originated from mothers' aversion to excessive physical touch, by kids and partners alike, but for me it resonates for all kinds of sensory input.
This year, instead of a storm, I got trapped at home for two weeks by pneumonia. My world shrank to the size of my bedroom and, for some unpleasant number of hours, a gurney in the emergency department.
The triage nurse bumped me to the front of the pack when my heart rate measured 145, which is about the top of the range for someone my age doing aerobics. I had not so much as walked around the block in four days.
It’s January in Oregon, and raining relentlessly. The Christmas decorations are gone, the tree and its ornaments boxed and in the attic. At this writing, my son is under the weather with