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.

Ugh.

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.

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