Oh yeah. It’s plague all right.
My throat is exceedingly sore, and I’m getting that whole-body raw feeling. I have never found “body ache” to be particularly accurate–this isn’t an ache, per se, it’s a sensitivity, as if my entire skin has been sandblasted.
Not terribly stuffed up–the post-nasal drip is causing the sore throat, but it’s not particularly compacted. Coughing seems so far incidental and not symptomatic. I may be running a fever, but I can’t tell, because I just realized that I don’t have a thermometer any more (apparently it got lost in the move.) Since I haven’t been sick in the last six months, I never though to pick one up.
I will admit that I eyed the meat thermometer speculatively for a moment, but naaaah. Units aren’t fine enough. (She’s done, Jim!) I could go out and get a thermometer, and possibly after a shower I will feel that ambitious, but at the moment about the best I can manage is sucking down tea and ambling around the house in my bathrobe.
And frankly, should I GET ambitious, my current painting will grab it up and squeeze it dry. There I was, plagued to the gills, thinking that an evening on the couch playing Katamari sounded like a perfect way to spend time, and WHAM.
GEARWORLD PAINTING WANTS OUT NOW
NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW
LET ME OUT LET ME OUT NOWNOWNOW
I cannot escape the feeling that it was waiting until my defenses were down to jump me. So instead of resting, as I should have done (and promised a few people I would) I kinda went on a psychotic painting jag, because…well…Gearworld is more important than plague. It has nothing much to do with suffering for art, and everything to do with leaping on a window that only opens a crack once in a blue moon before it slams shut again. (Sorry, guys…I promise, as soon as it’s done, genuine rest. Really. Lay-on-the-couch-and-watch-daytime-TV rest. Honest.)
Hopefully it’ll get finished today, although it’s 12 x 36 so scanning may prove more than I have the strength for at the moment.