No, the question mark in the entry title is not a typo. I’m definitely back in Sweden, but The Penthouse-Nordic bears a striking resemblance to an infirmary at the moment.
It started last Wednesday night when I got the following text message from Dr. Darling: “I just threw up…while sitting on the can… 😥 ” She was pretty sure it was a virus known in Sweden as “vinterkräksjukan”, which translates literally to “winter barfing disease”…though the symptoms are (obviously) not limited to throwing up.
About the same time, I was sneezing my way through a final shop at Super Target. By the time I boarded the flight out of O’Hare the next night, I had a full-blown head cold, something my seatmate appreciated, I’m sure. The flight was uneventful as far as I know, but I’d knocked myself out with cold medicine shortly after dinner so it’s tough to say for sure. I was wide awake for the descent into Copenhagen, however, when I was just sure my head was going to explode.
Dr. Darling‘s digestive system wasn’t up for a trip to the airport, but she did manage to meet me at Malmö‘s Central Station to help haul the luggage home. The Swede said I smelled like the U.S., which is evidently a combination of Tide laundry detergent, Johnson’s Baby Shampoo and the interior of an Airbus A330. Who knew?
I managed to stay awake until nearly 11 p.m. and then slept for nine hours straight courtesy of NyQuil, but Dr. Darling was up and down in the night and as of lunchtime today was still carrying a bucket from room to room with her. At least the weather was right for staying in all day and forcing fluids: rain, then freezing rain and accompanying power outage (quite short, thankfully), then snow.
But now I seem to be paying for all the extra rest and the endless cups of tea, because I’m wide awake and by the time I finish this entry it will be well past midnight. Or maybe it’s just jetlag.