Miserable

At least for now. Throat feeling as if I gargled broken glass. Aching body. Growing congestion. And the tantalizing possibility of fever being offered by my body as a sort of Buy Three, Get One Free deal. I haven’t decided if I’ll opt for the fever or not…I seem to recall having one or two in the past. Can’t say I remember anything pleasant about them, but the dreams were dy-no-mite.

Oh, I forgot the chills. The substantial kind, where it feels as if someone dumped a gallon of ice water down my spine in slow motion. As I write this, I’m wearing a thermal shirt, t shirt, two shirts, and a heavy sweater, and my hands are shaking hard enough to make my keyboard Tourette’s Syndrome enter stage right. It’s about time to toddle on off to bed and bury myself under a pile of quilts and comforters. My lovely nurse will probably sleep in a different room, both from fear of germs and to escape my Battle of Okinawa-scale snoring, which I do when my throat feels like this.

If my neighbors get wind of this, they’ll likely conclude, “I bet ol’ S.K. is just eat up with that crony virus.”

I hope my readers, all four of you (the Gang of Four…I like it!) stay healthy. Whatever this is, you don’t want it.

~ S.K. Orr