Well, I came down with the flu that next afternoon. Eugh.
The Boy went to the doctor and they gave him some super-magical version of NyQuil, and a super-magical version of Tylenol. While I have health insurance, I'm sitting around on my ass at home all day, and I have both NyQuil and Tylenol at my fingertips. I don't need the super-magical properties. Besides, in me, I know if I throw up, I'm pretty much better. (If it didn't sound really strange, and would probably gross everyone out, I've a lot more to say on this topic. But it verges on the disgusting, so, there you've that to be thankful of.) I threw up Saturday night and am back to normal aside from the fact that I still have a fever. So, aside from the fact that I'm just a little dizzy, and should probably be back in bed right now, here I am.
Not that there's been a lot to report, but I've read three books in the last three days and am thoroughly tired of bed.
A warning; don't take DayQuil if you want to sleep. You won't sleep. And, if your case is like mine, you'll be treated to a surround sound stereophonic multimedia presentation of Big and Rich's "The Eighth of November" complete with dream-like visuals. Constantly. For hours.
It was strange, to say the least. Woe be unto you if you decide that the only difference between them is that they left out the antihistamine in NyQuil.
Well, I'm feeling sorta whirly, which means I should probably eat something and get back to bed. Blame the more awry things on my "fevered brain" and the fact that I've been reading Jane Eyre, which makes me formal and introspective. Hope to feel better tomorrow. You feel OK too.