On Friday, my friend Bobby stopped by work to drop off the wet-saw that Christian was borrowing from him (he's re-tiling the guest bathroom).
"I'm going home," Bobby said, "I feel like crap. Amy has strep throat"
"Ugh." I said, "Well, feel better"
"OK"
And then he hugged me.
Bastard.
On Saturday, while watching a very excellent production of A Christmas Carol at the Atlanta Shakespeare Taven, something in the back of my throat started to tickle.
On Sunday, I couldn't get out of bed for the fever, body aches and chills. I spent most of the day under a blanket, coughing and shivering and mumbling about murdering Iranians with biological weapons...
This morning, I woke to find my fever had broken and I felt great. My throat even felt better. I got out of bed, happily, walked into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea and nearly passed out.
I emailed work, told them I wasn't coming in today, or maybe ever, ate breakfast and crawled back into bed.
That's basically been most of the day. I'm feeling a lot better than I was this morning - I actually managed a shower a few minutes ago. But I'm going to the doctor tomorrow anyway, because this cough isn't going away and it's annoying.
I talked to Bobby and he didn't actually get strep throat and I don't think I have it either - my throat doesn't hurt enough for that. But I'm still blaming him. I haven't had a fever like that in years.
I really don't have the time for this. My Christmas party is Saturday and I really need to start working on it!
Ok, all this typing is exhausting. I'm going back to bed.
