The shower water hitting my skull sounded like a piece of paper being rattled by a strong breeze. I hate being under the weather. It's like my brain has simultaneously shriveled like a raisin and turned to soup--it aches like its wrinkles are dried out, and at the same time it can't focus on anything. I plugged in an electric kettle at work this afternoon and left it to boil dry. I would turn and walk two feet in a different direction and completely forget why I'd altered my course. I fumbled receipts, had to remind myself to smile and act pleasant, got dizzy and dull and achey at moments. I left the shop an hour early. There's a rat chewing on the wiring behind my left eyebrow, my ears are ringing, and I have a pain between my shoulderblades, though I got plenty of sleep last night. In other words, all the people hacking, coughing, sneezing and sniffing in my vicinity over the last several weeks have done what even my relatively strong constitution has been unable to withstand--besieged it with enough germs to crack my protective carapace and flood my system. I have a feeling I am going to be getting a lot worse before I get better. So my last stop before home tonight was at the grocery store, where I bought two gallons of milk, a quartet of bananas, and a box of Zinc tablets...enough perishible provisions to last me for three days. I already have five cartons of orange juice in my fridge.
Plainly, I feel poorly. I think I've actually been running a low-grade fever for a couple of days--I've been cold, cold, cold though I've been keeping the thermostat at almost 80 and swaddling myself in layers, and it can't be ALL low iron in my blood causing me to feel like the Ghost of Christmas Past--but I think the overture is over and the opera is ready to begin. All I can hope for is losing a few pounds--thanks to the proverbially-advised "starving a fever"--before the aria at the end.