I have chills. I’m flushed. I’ll break out into a drippy sweat, my hair clammy against my neck, my t-shirt drenched…then the shivering commences. My stomach is in knots; I feel as though I’m about to throw up.
I wish I could say it’s because I’m falling in love.
But no, sadly, it’s far more basic than that: I’m sick.
I left work early, crawled into bed for a while. But the weather is worsening. A tropical storm is on its way, so I need to drag myself to the store to fortify my food supplies before the children arrive tomorrow.
It’s times like these when I wish I had someone to watch out for me, to take care of me, to bring me hot soup in bed. I swear, I’m extremely good about reciprocating if anyone feels like volunteering.
But at least I slept for an hour…and watched two older episodes of Law & Order, featuring delicious men who could bring me soup in bed anytime.
Sigh. Back to the real world…and soon, I hope, back under the covers, to dream, to heal.