Sick

Last night my fever broke. When I fell asleep at 9-something, I had turned the heaters up as far as they could go, donned my long-sleeve PJ's, a red down vest with a zip-up sweatshirt on top of that, and my winter hat and wool scarf to boot. And still I lay shivering under my down comforter with my thick synthetic down quilt on top. Somehow I fell asleep.... only to wake up at 12-something feeling very, very warm. In fact, my exact thoughts were Agh! Someone is trying to smother me! So off came the top quilt. Then the sweater and the down vest. Then the socks. In a fit of despair, I even got up, opened the window and turned the heaters all the way down to 0. That was better. It occurred to me that my fever had probably broken, thus spurring the rapid change in temperature perception. So I took my temp: 100.5 (a good sign)... and, as it turns out, dropping. Woo-hoo! Hooray for Advil! (No, Charlie, I was not yet that desperate; the oral route worked just fine. )

But then I couldn't fall back asleep, so I feverishly (albeit less feverishly than before!) checked my blog and my email. That was fun, because I got to IM with Joanne, which due to the stupid time zone phenomenon does not happen nearly enough.

Then I must have gone back to sleep, because I woke up again at 10, obsessively took my temperature (hovering just below 100-- a breakthrough!), and realized that a.) I was hungry and cold; b.) my throat hurt like crazy; c.) I really wanted some orange juice and d.) I must have gotten up and closed the window sometime in the night. So I re-donned the multitude of layers, cursed myself for not stocking up on juice (hey, it's heavy to transport on a bike, OK?) and decided to kill two birds with one stone by making some really hot clear vegetable broth. That counts as "gargling with salt water," too, right? I don't know what it means that I was compelled by some unknown force to add some freeze-dried parsley and chives to the soup, because it was too boring otherwise.

Exhausted by the exertion of boiling water, I retired to my nest to fluff my feathers for a while, then ventured out to accomplish the major task of gathering up the dirty dishes (all 4 of them) and putting them into the sink. Then it hit me that if I continue in such infinitesimally slow increments, I might as well be writing a computer program about cleaning my house. Maybe I just need to accept the fact that it is not going to get done to my satisfaction. Or just keep on plugging.

So that is the saga of my night. I quite enjoy being sleepless between the hours of, say 12 and 4 am my time, because of the IM factor. Doesn't really do great things for the next-morning perkiness, though.

Man, now my fever is going back up. They are nasty little buggers, fevers-- they make you too cold on the outside and too warm on the inside and then you don't know whether to put on more clothes or get naked. Hmmm... maybe a shower would be a good idea. Secretly I just want my mommy to show up suddenly at my door, but clearly I need to figure this out myself. Thanks for listening to me babble, all.