On the minus side: I didn’t do any strong updates this week.

On the plus side: I’m not dead.

Tuesday night, I started feeling a little scratchy, and it got worse and worse such that by Tuesday night I knew I had a full-blown cold. Man, would THAT have been awesome, had it been true.

Wednesday morning, I realized it was something more. I was achy, stuffed-up, dry (it is beyond me how someone can be so dry that his freaking TONGUE is chapped and still have a nose filled with moist mucus), and feverish. Bad times. I called out from work and slept until about 11am, at which time I wandered downstairs to ensure HW (who was home from work so she could finish a paper for a class) that I was still mostly alive. Then I went back to bed and watched TV for a while, and then I had soup, and was starting to feel better, so I went downstairs to attempt to rejoin the land of the living.

I was okay for about 5 hours, but around 6pm I started to feel rather cold. This was odd, as the heat was on, and I had a blanket, along with a sweatshirt and pajama pants. By 8pm I had moved beyond “feverish” into “feverful” and dragged myself up to bed so I could shiver the night away under the blankets. Sarah came home around 9pm, felt my head, and actually said “Ow” as if I had burned her.

At some point, the fever broke. I know this because when the fever came BACK, a few hours later, I had kicked all the covers off the bed. I nearly had a panic attack trying to find them, in the dark, while shaking like a V8 with a bent crank.

Thursday morning I was somewhat better, although 12 hours of sleep while shivering isn’t as restful as one would think. I laid around yesterday, too tired to move, but not sleepy enough to sleep (stay up for 3 days straight and then drink 2 pots of coffee, and you’ll know what I mean). Around 10pm I went to bed, and got up this morning about 7, feeling non-feverish but achy.

To sum up: I hate the flu.

On the plus side, I do have some truly interesting dreams to relate:

Wednesday night’s weird dream: I don’t remember a whole lot, to be honest. I’m pretty sure the dream involved a bunch of muscles that had gotten out of alignment, and I was inside them trying to push them back into their proper forms. In real life, of course, I was kicking the blankets all over the bed, nay, all over the freakin’ room. Seriously, I punked those blankets’ ass something FIERCE. Anyway, when I awoke at 6am in semi-delirium, I sat up in bed for 5 or 6 minutes trying to discern if the muscles were all okay. I actually started feeling things around me to feel if they were “in alignment.” Fever dreams are freakish.

Thursday night’s weird dream: I was at my parents’ house, and I decided it might be fun to cook them a tenderloin (tenderloins were the topic of a recent episode of Good Eats). Rather than using the oven or grill, I decided to use an open fire. And rather than using their fireplace, which would be too small for the job, I decided it would be best to simply stoke an open fire on the carpet in their family room.

So I’m poking and prodding at this thing, and eventually I take the semi-raw meat off to do something with it, I have no idea what, and work some more on the fire to get it going really hot. Then, as I recall, I took a nap. When I awoke (in the dream, not for real):

  • The fire was going like crazy. In fact, it was starting to char the table next to it. (Literally right next to it. You’d think I’d have moved it away, but then, you’d think I wouldn’t start a fire in the house. So there.) It was also leaving a big soot mark on the ceiling, and was getting rather near to burning down the house. I think we threw water on it.
  • Some kind of freaky creatures that looked like large grey Q-tips were coming in from the back door and going straight at the fire. Thousands, nay, millions of them. Disturbing, to say the least.

Shortly after that, I awoke (for real) and immediately thought, “Shoot, I’d better call Dad and apologize for the fire and the Q-tip worms.” This is why you don’t wake me up and ask me anything important. I am likely to reply “We can’t go to church, are you crazy? The goats are still out there! Did you find my gun?”

Although I might say that anytime, really. Damned goats.

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