Today's post will be short. Why? Because I'm sick. I made it through this entire winter thus far without a single cold, and I think I must have gotten cocky because on Sunday, karma hit me with a sledgehammer. Seriously, I'm pretty sure an evil fairy snuck into my room at night and filled my sinuses with hot coals. And then set my throat on fire.
It's been three days so far of achy, moaning unhappiness, contemplating the vodka in the cupboard left over from Christmas. Because at times like this, it seems stupid to be sober. Don't worry, I didn't get drunk. But I did add a splash to my orange juice when I was home from work. You know, to help me sleep. (You wouldn't judge me if your throat felt like mine at the moment).
I've also managed to use the time away from work somewhat constructively. Although my brain function is limited (it's mostly gone towards continually identifying what parts of me hurt and how much), I've still managed to read two books in two days. I know I should be sleeping, and I'd love to spend this time unconscious, believe me, but here's something I've learned. It's impossible to sleep when you have sinus pain. It's just not going to happen without powerful sedatives. And unfortunately, I think I've built up a tolerance to Nyquil. It just doesn't seem to work like it used to. So, I read. And luckily, the books I've read have been good. Really good. Able to distract me for small periods at a time from the hot fiery pain in my face and throat.
So, cross your fingers for me that I'll be back on my feet soon. I have work to do, a manuscript to edit and both will be easier without the constant achy torture of this god-awful virus. In the mean time, It's back to bed.