Pass Me A Tissue

Forgive my silence on the Blogosphere the past few days. I’ve got The Plague.
On Thursday, when I began feeling a little “off,” I thought it was because of my poor sleep the night before. But yesterday, I felt a tad yuckier, and today my symptoms are full blown. They consist of a horrible, hacking cough, body aches, fever and chills. I believe it’s the flu. Which serves me right for being the only one in the family to refuse the shot, and allowing myself to get run down the past few weeks.

I have not really been this ill in a few years, thanks to my blessed Irish/Italian constitution. But, my gosh, what ever gave me the false rosy retrospect that spending time in bed with an illness was equal to a vacation? Assuredly it is not! All I have done in the past 8 hours is hover under my blankets in a shivering ball, only coming up for air once to eat a grapefruit. And why is it so freaking freezing in this house? And then hot! Too, too hot! I am SO not looking forward to menopause.

I am too light-headed to read, and the t.v. is annoying every one of my senses. The only family member who will come anywhere near me is Little Squirt. He keeps sticking the thermometer in my mouth at odd moments and bringing me stuffed animals. If I get lucky and have enough energy to whimper, “Can somebody get me a drink?”, Super Hubs or The Teens might throw me a water bottle or something. Their compassionate, merciful sides have been overtaken by their fear of contagion.

Okay, I’m finished complaining now. And this is all the energy I can muster. I am going back to bed for a four-hour nap. Stay well.