Every time I think I’m getting better, I take two steps backwards. I was on the upswing last night, and I was foolishly optimistic that I would be better when I woke up. Imagine my chagrin (but not surprise) when I woke up with a tickle in my throat. Up to this point, I’ve been mostly achy and flipping between feverish and chilly. I’ve had no strength, and I tire easily. Now, added to that, my throat is scratchy, and my nose is runny. I’m coughing as well, which, of course, makes my throat feel worse. I went to Cubs this morning to stock up on groceries, and I bought ginger, honey, and lemon so I can make my mom’s ginger tea. It feels soothing going down, and everyone knows all three of those are good for what ails you. I also bought a thing of Simply Lemonade with mango, so I’m drinking both of those in addition to my gallon of pop and my thermos of water. I’m quaffing ALL THE FLUIDS in an attempt to halt this before it gets really bad.
I also know I’m sick because my already-short patience is almost at nil. My inner sarcastic monologue is twice as bad when I’m sick, and I’m less able to keep it off my face. At Cubs, there were two elderly ladies who were blocking an aisle and didn’t move as I pushed my cart up to them. This is one of my pet peeves in the best of times, and I’m sure the impatience was etched on my face. One of the biddies slowly moved aside, and in my brain, I was thinking, “Come on, woman. Move faster! It’s only common courtesy.” Then, the cashier wanted to tell me his life story, and I was curter than I normally would have been. I think, anyway. It’s possible that it was all in my head because I’m pretty able to mask my inner impatience, but it makes me uncomfortable to be that acerbic.
Anyway, I’m keeping this short for today. I wish my Shadow would do this to me.