inferma.

I'm sick. All morning I sat at my desk at work and tried to get things done between blowing my nose and clearing my throat and touching my ears to make sure they still worked (though I'm still quite sure they are not). At 6 a.m. I rushed off to Kroger for some cough medicine because their Web site said they opened at 6 a.m. When I got there, the carts were lined up as a barricade between the sliding doors and the poster said 8:00 a.m. Lovely. I made a hurried detour to CVS where I picked up a box of cherry lozenges before jumping on the interstate to make it to work on time.

Yesterday I got in bed around 3:30, as soon as I got home from work, until Nate came over and fed me and made tea and read to me before going home (slightly hungry, I suppose, because I didn't cook. Though I think he did take leftovers from the fridge with him). My sinuses were draining into my stomach so I was certain I would puke at any moment. But I didn't, and since my nausea waned this morning, I showered and pulled on slacks and a shirt and went to work.

By 10 a.m. I was feeling pretty miserable. Occasionally a sneeze would rise up and while I did my best to deter it, I was unable and the achoo ached every part of my throat which (if I could see it) I am sure is very red and swollen. I closed my door during lunch and put my head down, raising it intermittently to slip in an oyster cracker and sip some water. I get three sick occurrences at work, but we're only two work days into the year, and it didn't seem worth it to use one occurrence for missing three hours of work. I picked up some paper copies and headed home to finish my editing from a more horizontal position.

Nate is working tonight so I'm short on sympathy. Miles has done nothing but anchor down the blankets at the bottom of the bed and occasionally stretch and roll over. From my bed I've confirmed our eye appointments for this month, paid a couple of utility bills, finished my editing, and wished away the pile of dishes looming in my formerly very clean kitchen (to no avail). When I was finally convinced that I was in fact dehydrated and no drop of water seemed satisfying, I slipped my adidas pants over my PJs and endured pre-rush hour traffic for some Sprite Zero.

Calling it a day and hoping for an overnight miracle. Dear Mom, please send soup.