My bestie Elizabeth offered to pick up Chick-fil-A for me for dinner. When I declined, she knew it was true...I was well and truly sick. After 32 years of infamous immunity, my system waved the white flag and surrendered my unsuspecting body to strep throat. I resent this cruel betrayal.
In another attempt to distract me, she offered a Guest Blogger role on Inspire Me Grey. My first response was succinct: "I'm sure it would be brilliant." After all, my beloved doctor provided me with Vicodin after peering into my throat...and I've watched five episodes of House Crashers, yet can describe none of the reveals. Clearly I'm not in my most-right mind. My second response was, "Can it be about my favorite grey fleece pants?" Elizabeth obviously enjoys humoring me (and Jenny hasn't met me, but I already like her due to her relation to one of my favorite people), because she said, "Why not?!"
But it's not. It's actually about my sick grey sweater. The grey sweater that I pull out of my closet every time I feel, to quote my grandmother, peaky. The knee-length cardigan that has never been in style, but offers something better: comfort. It's the comfort of chicken noodle soup, hot tea, episodes of Gilmore Girls, and Janet Evanovich books (also featured during my sick days). It's nubby, old, and beloved. It's my sick grey sweater, and you can't find one, because I don't know where it came from. Be jealous. And pass the remote.
