Sniffle Squad Headquarters: Cozy Edition 🤧💛

There are days when life’s tempo slows to a gentle crawl, even if the world outside is bright and breezy. Today, San Angelo is showing off—clear skies, a perfect 71 degrees, the kind of weather that makes you want to throw open the windows and soak in the sunshine. And yet, here I am, tucked under a mountain of blankets, letting the world spin quietly on while I focus on one simple mission: rest, recover, and embrace every ounce of cozy comfort I can find.

I’ll admit, part of me wishes it was raining—there’s something about a soft drizzle that makes a sick day feel extra justified. But, as any seasoned member of the Sniffle Squad knows, you don’t need gloomy weather to grant yourself permission to slow down. Sometimes, you just have to listen to your body, pull the covers up, and let comfort take the lead.

My bed is officially HQ, and I’m reporting for duty, tissues in hand.

The Sick Day Setup: Building My Cozy Command Center

With the sunlight streaming in and the world outside looking deceptively energetic, I’ve built my own little haven right here in bed. My nightstand is a monument to sick day survival: a half-empty sleeve of cough drops (I swear, menthol is a love language), a tall glass of ice water, and a can of ginger ale chilled just right. There’s soup waiting in the kitchen, but for now, I’m savoring the anticipation—sometimes just knowing comfort food is within reach is enough.

But the real star of today’s setup is my Minnie Mouse blanket hoodie—the one I snagged at Disney Tokyo, Japan. Pulling it on is like stepping into a hug from a faraway friend. It’s oversized, plush, and covered in memories of a trip that still makes me smile on the gloomiest days (or, as it turns out, even on the sunniest ones). There’s a special kind of magic in wrapping up in something that’s traveled the world with you; it’s a reminder that comfort can be both a feeling and a souvenir.

I’m surrounded by my softest blankets (because let’s be honest, one is never enough), a fortress of pillows, and the gentle hum of my iPad playing “Resident Alien.” It’s my first time watching, and I’m already obsessed—quirky humor, a little bit of mystery, and just the right amount of weirdness to distract me from the scratchiness in my throat.

Of course, no sick day HQ would be complete without a project. My crochet bag is never far from reach, and today it’s holding a Tunisian scarf in progress. I scored the Baby Bee Sweet Delights Prints yarn (French Fields colorway) at Hobby Lobby for just a dollar—a true bargain hunter’s victory! The yarn is so soft, and the colors are like a little patch of spring: blue skies, green fields, and a hint of sunshine. Every row is a gentle reminder that even on the slowest days, creativity can bloom.

Comfort Food Cravings: The Subway Sandwich Saga

There’s something about being sick that brings out the most specific, almost ritualistic cravings. For me, it’s always soup—classic chicken noodle if I’m sticking to the script, but honestly, anything warm and brothy will do. But today, my comfort food heart wanted something oddly specific: a Subway roast beef sandwich. Cheddar, toasted, double pickles, all the veggies (except banana peppers and jalapeños), plus a generous drizzle of mayo, oil, vinegar, salt, and pepper.

Why are sick day cravings so particular? Maybe it’s about nostalgia—reaching for the foods that comforted us as kids, or maybe it’s just that when everything else feels off, a familiar sandwich order is a tiny anchor in the storm. I can remember so many sick days from my childhood, curled up on the couch with my grandma’s afghan, my mom hovering nearby with a thermometer and a glass of Sprite. Those flavors, those rituals, are stitched into my bones.

Today, I might go and get my sandwich and take that first bite, and for a moment, all is right with the world. Maybe I can’t taste everything perfectly, but the crunch of pickles and the warmth of toasted bread still feel like a hug from the inside out.

The Clinic Visit: Finding Kindness in Unexpected Places

This morning, when my sniffles turned into something more, I made the familiar trip to Goodfellow Medical (Ross Clinic). Military families know the drill—sometimes you brace yourself for a long wait or a rushed visit. But today, I want to give credit where it’s due: the team at Ross Clinic was genuinely wonderful. The nurse listened, really listened, and I felt cared for in a way that’s sometimes hard to come by when you’re far from home.

We did the usual swabs, talked through symptoms, and I left with the classic “how to feel better at home” checklist: stay home, drink plenty of water and fluids, try not to talk (sore throat’s orders!), and most importantly, rest. It’s advice we’ve all heard a hundred times, but somehow, when it comes from someone who looks you in the eye and says, “You’re going to be okay. Just take care of yourself,” it lands a little softer.

I left feeling grateful—not just for the care, but for the reminder that kindness can show up in the most routine places. For military families, especially, these little moments of connection matter. They’re proof that community isn’t just a word; it’s something you can feel, even in a clinic waiting room.

Rest as Resistance: Giving Myself Permission to Pause

Rest is not my default setting. If you know me, you know I’m always juggling a dozen things—family, creative projects, community commitments, the never-ending to-do list. But today, I’m surrendering. The world outside might be buzzing with energy, but here in HQ, it’s slow, soft, and sacred.

I wrap myself tighter in my Minnie Mouse hoodie, pull the blankets up, and let myself just be. I sip ginger ale, nibble my sandwich, and let the gentle rhythm of my crochet hook quiet my mind. Every stitch is a small act of rebellion against the pressure to be “productive.” Today, rest is enough.

There’s a unique bravery in pausing, in letting the world move on without you for a while. It’s not easy to let go of guilt or the urge to catch up, but healing asks for softness and surrender. I’m learning—slowly—that my worth isn’t measured by what I accomplish on my busiest days, but how kindly I treat myself on my slowest.

Tiny Joys and Unexpected Silver Linings

Even on a sick day, there are moments of joy if you’re willing to notice them. The sunlight on my comforter, the soft laughter from “Resident Alien,” the simple delight of a dollar yarn find—all of these are tiny reminders that comfort can be found in the smallest details.

Crocheting my Tunisian scarf, I think about the legacy of comfort passed down from my grandmothers. They taught me that creativity is portable, that you can build a sense of home wherever you are, and that sometimes, the best thing you can do is show up for yourself, exactly as you are.

I think about Matthew checking in from work, making sure I’m staying hydrated, and the friends who send silly memes and “get well soon” texts. Even on a solo sick day, I’m surrounded by care—woven together by family, friends, and this beautiful, resilient military community.

The Art of Letting Go: Embracing the Slow Days

In a world that rewards hustle and constant motion, sick days force us to slow down and focus on what really matters: comfort, connection, and care. Today, I’m letting go of the pressure to bounce back or be “caught up.” The dishes can wait, emails can go unanswered, and the world will keep spinning.

I’m letting myself be cared for—by my own hands, by the kindness of a nurse, by the memories of my grandmothers, by the laughter of a quirky TV show, and by the perfectly toasted sandwich that tastes like home.

Closing Thoughts: From My HQ to Yours

So, from my sunny San Angelo sick day headquarters—surrounded by blankets, yarn, and a little bit of Disney magic—I’m sending you all a wave of comfort. If you’re riding out your own storm, whether it’s sniffles or something heavier, know that you’re not alone. There’s a whole squad of us out here, taking it slow, finding joy in small things, and giving ourselves permission to heal.

Here’s to comfort, to rest, and to the quiet magic of letting yourself just be. From my HQ to yours—virtual hugs, soft blankets, and all the cozy vibes.

Stay snuggly, friends. 💛

Wondering.Waves