So. Yesterday was incredibly productive. Naturally, I woke up this morning feeling like I'd been run over by a wayward semi. Slightly feverish, runny nose, cotton-wool mind, achy joints. My cheeks are so red I look like an elf who needs a 12-step program. A co-worker has been coughing and miserable for the last two weeks; while she has been very careful to stay away from everyone, she apparently has left little germ-friends on doorknobs and such, to be picked up by the unwary.
So, after church I dozed through Ratatouille, took a nap, and now plan to doze through part of the Wizard of Oz. Then maybe I'll go to bed. And yes, I'll be able to sleep; when I'm sick, all I do is sleep, sleep sleep. Of course, I want to do the same thing when I'm well, but then my mind is working and telling me I have responsibilites and obligations and I can't do that. When I'm sick, I just don't care.
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