Misery

I am so disgusted. I thought I was so well. I was eating extra fruits and veggies and proteins. I was full of energy, feisty even, and then I went into a slow decline this week and spun out last night when I got a fever and a wicked sore throat. One of those sore throats in which your tongue can’t help curling back to explore the puffy pitted raw landscape in the back of your mouth.

Sadly, the drug regimen I have worked out needs to be administered every four hours. This works very well: three Motrin, one Sudafed, and one Sucrets.

Of course, I fall asleep and then wake up exactly four hours later when all the drugs have worn off, with a sore throat dried out from snoring. Whine! Whine! Stupid sickness. Stupid “normal” immune system. I am comforted that this has blazed across work and three others have been felled by it as well.

Somehow I think this virus was buried in the earth with the cicadas, but then the tornadoes across town lifted it into the atmosphere. On Wednesday, Channel Five was all tornadoes all the time, your 24/7 stop for tornadoes. I could watch tornado coverage for hours. Gary’s hair salon might have suffered damage.

I was working from home today, but then I began making stupid mistakes. I decided that since work was tanking, I should stop, take a sick day, and … make hotel reservations instead! Spending hundreds of unredeemable dollars upfront is just what you want to do when you have a fever. I ended up springing for the hotels that I’d decided were out of my price range before: the Hutton in Nashville and the Raphael Hotel in Kansas City.

Time for more Motrin. This morning I even looked up remedies like sage tea. It hasn’t come to that.