Ugh

Bleah.

No writing last night. I didn't do much of anything. Read a little Bill Gibson, read a little John Gardner (his novel, Grendel, not his criticism). Tried to watch television but found it too empty of watchable content. Felt really tired, and went to bed early.

Woke up with a headache. And a throat that feels like it's full of raw bread dough laced with fish hooks. Stuffy head, cough, overall nasty-feeling. I croak when I talk. This blows. I called in sick to work, feeling like a total wuss. I mean, it's only a cold, right? I should suck it up. But I felt like I hadn't slept at all, and couldn't bear the thought of getting dressed and driving to work. So I took drugs and went back to sleep. I dreamed of puppies, car accidents, and people holding me at gunpoint and stealing my eggs.

I just got out of bed about an hour and a half ago, around 12:30. Called work to see how they're doing. It turns out none of our outgoing email for the past week has gone anywhere; some server problem. We weren't getting error messages; the messages just... didn't go. That's not something I can help with, though, so I didn't choke back the pain and race up to the office to lend a hand. I took some echinacea and made some tea instead.

Why am I sick? It doesn't even feel like winter! Why am I getting a winter sickness? I'd like to blame it on Scott, who's had this cold sort of thing for a while, but he's been gone for two days, so if I caught it from him it has a weird incubation period...

Bah. I'm cranky, and a little loopy. I'm not at work, but I'm not enjoying my day off. I'm tired of sitting here. My room's a mess, and I feel too icky to clean it up. It feels like a sickroom, and I've only been sick for one morning.

I'm going to try to go to the post office. If you don't hear from me within a couple of days, send out a search party.