I woke up yesterday and knew I was toast. My head felt like it wouldn't fit through the door, and even the smallest sound felt like a jackhammer.
But deadlines being deadlines, I wrote anyway because when you're a writer, magical fairies don't take over your laptop and generate prose on your behalf. I don't phone in sick any more. Rather, I can't.
So by the end of a day of tapping away at keys that often hurt my fingertips (no, I don't blame you, HP. I really love my laptop...my skin just gets really sensitive when I have a cold) I was ready for some serious sleepy time.
Which, in between waking up at 3 a.m. with a headache so severe that I thought I was going to pass out and then spending the rest of the night with a worried dog pressing himself against me to ensure I was still breathing, is actually coming to fruition. Hopefully a couple of days of quiet R&R will give me a chance to evict the viral invaders once and for all.
As I wrap up this giant run-on blog entry - tapped out from my BlackBerry - it occurs to me that I almost never prattle on this extensively when I'm sick. So thank you for your patience and understanding. This process has been cathartic for me. Really!
Your turn: Got any ancient family cold remedies? I'm trying 'em all. Thanks in advance!