I'm just getting over the illin'-est flu bug of my life. I don't remember feeling this shitty since I was in first grade and had a fever of 104.
To be honest, I really don't remember that much of what if felt like to have a 104 fever. I just remember the look on the school secretary's face when she read the thermometer after having doubted I was really under the weather* and being home sick with both my dad and my mom while my sister remained healthy. Oh, and I remember getting a valentine from my Aunt Marian, the sister of my Nanny (my mother's mother).
My fever this time was, I think, 101.4 at its highest, but this flu had me feeling so strange. Foggy headed. Blisteringly angry. Tearful. Nauseous. Ravenous. On Tuesday afternoon, I felt like I might be sick to my stomach at any moment while simultaneously craving beef. We'd had a crazy-good Tony-made beef stew the previous two nights for dinner.
A week ago Friday at work, I started feeling like a cold or an allergy attack was hitting me. By that night, my nose was a faucet. The next day, it was more of the same, like a superduper cold.
But that night, I woke up freezing and pulled out a second blanket. On that Sunday, it was obvious that I had influenza. And that what Tony had thought was a bacterial infection around New Year's was the flu.**
On Tuesday, I did a few things around the house—emptied the dishwasher and watered a few plants outside—and walked the woofers in the early evening. Which was the first time I had gotten out of the apartment in a few days. On Wednesday, I felt worse again and had to take another day off work.
On Thursday, I went in to work for the afternoon, mostly because my boss and I had a video interview with a prospective new copy editor. On Friday, I did a full day of work and was very tired by the end of it.
Yesterday, I slept in late and took a morning nap. Today, I'm feeling much better but still not 100%.
To pass some time while I was home sick, I watched clips of Glee performances on YouTube. I gave up on the show toward the end of the second season, thanks to the show's ridiculously improbable plot developments and inability to have the characters grow/change/do anything really in a realistic manner. The amazing performances of Chris Colfer as Kurt and Naya Rivera as Santana held me longer than the show deserved. Those two stars could deliver any line and sell any emotion no matter how implausible. I miss seeing them every week, but I don't miss wanting to throw things at the TV at Ryan Murphy's latest story line atrocity.
*She had good reason to doubt me. I was often looking for a reason to go home from school in first grade. I must not have adjusted well to a full school day from half-day kindergarten.
**Tony didn't have the flu anywhere near as bad as me. He attributes that to his celiac disease, which tends to protect him more than the general population against viral diseases. And that's why he had convinced himself he had something bacterial.
UPDATE on Jan. 16: While I was sick and recuperating, I also listened to some new music from—and copied some old, dust-coated CDs into—iTunes. I bought Same Something Different, a new-ish album from Jake Walden, a sensitive and very talented singer-songwriter with an often gravelly, sometimes soaring voice. The whole album is good, but my favorite songs are the title tune, "Simple Life," "Almost Brave," and "For Alice."
I got reacquainted with Sarah McLachlan. Her 1997 album Surfacing is almost pure genius. (If I liked the second track, "I Love You," more, I'd ditch the "almost.") Solace (especially "Into the Fire" and "The Path of Thorns") and Fumbling Towards Ecstasy ("Possession," "Wait," and "Good Enough") are wonderful too.
And I'm enjoying "Submarines," "Dead Sea," "Ho Hey," and "Stubborn Love" from the self-titled album by The Lumineers, who are up for the Best New Artist award at the Grammys.