I am sick. I hate being sick, and I’m a whiny bitch when it happens. Which seems to be more often than is warranted. I woke up feeling a bit wonky*, but I soldiered on. After class that night, however, I felt draggy and low energy. I went home and thought I could just sleep it off. No. I felt worse and worse that night until I fell into an uneasy sleep.
I woke up feeling that specific, “I’m about to get sick” feeling. It wasn’t sickness itself, no, but the precursor to it. I skipped class, flopped on the couch, and snuggled with my cats while watching Poirot. I was miserable and gross and felt flashes of heat. I dozed off from time to time, and I did a good imitation of a rag doll for most of the day.
Today, I felt even worse when I woke up. I have no energy, and I only did a light routine. I’m having alternate heat flashes and cold sweats, and I’m miserable as a dog. I don’t do sickness well, even if I don’t say anything. I’m a sour bitch in my head, and I would rather be hurt than sick. Speaking of hurt, I jammed the pinkie finger on my right hand when I was trying to save my water bottle from falling out of the freezer. So now I have matching aching pinkie fingers.
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