I’ve been fighting off something for the past several days. A little scratchy throat. Ah, I thought, a day later, that’s just post nasal drip. Change in the weather. Leaf mold. That went on for a few days (and restless nights).
This morning, it’s worse than ever. My head feels like it’s swollen to twice its normal already-inflated size. There’s a pressure on the front of my face that makes me want to babble like Joyce, except I don’t have the energy to do so.
I’m seriously considering calling this a sick day, since my ability to concentrate lasts about as long as it takes me either cough or snort. I’m torn, because I’m behind on some deliverables at work, for a variety of reasons, and the little guy in red tights with a pitchfork sitting on my shoulder is not going to take “I’m sick for an answer.” The only one who can fight that guy is my muse, and she’s waist-deep in mucus right now.
Bleah.
And the worst part is, as any time one is feeling so bad one has to stay off of work, is that I don’t even feel good enough to do anything fun during my “time off.”
Besides, whenever I bend over the keyboard, I … drip.