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I spent most of yesterday feeling tired and headache-y and cold; when I got home I discovered I had a 101-degree fever. Whoops. Had to call the charge's folks to let them know I just (potentially) infected the young-un, then collapsed into bed. S. has been a very attentive nurse -- fevers make me embarassingly weepy and emotional - kind of like a bad drunk, but worse. I vaguely remember crying and asking him if he had any-*sob*-idea-*sob*-how much I-*sob*-love him. I'm not sure if that amused or horrified him -- I'll have to ask him later.
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Had some really strange fever dreams, including one in which a childhood cat came back and told me he'd been "on vacation" for the past thirty years.
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I'm not good at being sick - while I'm lying in bed I think of all the stuff that needs to be done around the house, feel guilty over all the things S. is doing for me, etc. etc. I'm also so horribly addicted to coffee that I had to get up this morning and brew a cup lest I add a withdrawal headache to my ills.
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And now, I think I'll repair to my bedchamber and sweat some more. Yippee.
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