I seem to be on the upswing from my bout with the flu. Yesterday morning I awoke to find that I didn't have a fever for the first time since Sunday night, which was good. Although I allowed myself to sleep late, I was going stir-crazy from being in my studio apartment for two days, so I ventured back out into the big bad world. It went fine, but even after a mere afternoon of work I was pretty damn pooped. I retreated to the couch this evening.
Last night, I did a little catching up on blogs. You know I'm pretty sick when a) I have no appetite and b) I barely get on the internet. Yeah, I checked some email here and there, and even managed to squeak out a Gothamist Food post or two despite my feverish brain, but I had a great deal of catching up to do. Still do, as a matter of fact. One thing that caught my eye was this article in the Observer about the increasing popularity of egg-freezing among NYC women in their mid-to-late thirties that I spotted via Gawker. Now granted, given my age, every now and again I find myself in that panic mode: Even if I met someone tomorrow, fell in love, dated him for a respectable time, and got married, it might still be somewhat late for me to give birth to my own child without a little scientific tweaking. And although I think I'd like to have a child at some point, I'm certainly in no rush to have one on my own. Hell, I still have trouble taking care of myself. But it has never, and I mean never crossed my mind to freeze my eggs so that I can increase the odds of having a biological child down the road.
Look, whenever it so happens that I meet the guy, whomever he is, having a family will happen, and only time will tell whether it will be through biology, biology with a tweak of science, or through adoption, but the end result will be the same -- we will be a family, and that's what I really want in the end.
Pretty heady stuff for the first day out of the flu, n'est-ce pas?