From Spanish puppet play to French recital to Italian opera to iPads and charity events to singing in weddings and in nude Tableaux and filming in Staten Island, I suppose I had hoped my body had developed some superhuman ability to never rest from so many stresses -fun, difficult, real, or imaginary – by using my Neti Pot. Not so. As I finally rest today, at the obvious, relentless insistence of a fever and sore throat, I learn a little lesson from my childhood friend Little Miss Busy.
“Little Miss Busy loved nothing more than to be hard at work keeping herself busy. As busy as a bee. In fact, as busy as a hive of bees. Every day she would get up at three o’clock in the morning.”
“She even dusted the bread and polished the butter. She wasn’t happy unless she was busy working. She didn’t rest all day long-not for a minute. Not even for a second. From three o’clock in the morning until after midnight.”
“Until last Monday (Sunday, in this case), that is. Little Miss Busy wasn’t up at three o’clock. She wasn’t up by six o’clock. She wasn’t even out of bed by nine o’clock. She was sick. ‘I won’t be able to do any work!’ she cried. ‘Oh calamity!’
“She phoned Doctor Make-you-well. Five minutes later he was standing at the side of her bed. He asked her to stick out her tongue. He examined her throat. And he looked at her hands and feet. ‘What you need is rest, a lot of rest,’ he said with a big smile.”
‘”A lot of rest,’ repeated Little Miss Busy to herself. ‘Oh, calamity!’ There was a loud THUMP! Which was the sound of Little Miss Busy falling over backward, onto the bed, luckily for her.”
If you need me, I’ll be somewhere in my apartment, resting.
Skydiving for Pearls 