slow rise

It's really a pity that the entire process of feeling ill prevents you from enjoying the niceties that occasionally come from snagging the latest and nastiest bug to go around. Who in their right mind wouldn't enjoy being allowed to curl up on one's spouse and having one's hair lazily played with while watching Buffy reruns?

"Right mind," of course, being contingent on silly things like maintaining a constant body temperature of no more than 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. The addition of even one or two measly little degrees can be enough to coagulate mental proteins like so many eggs for scrambling, resulting in telephone conversations that are addled, utterly stupid, and (blessedly) forgotten almost immediately.

Poor Jeremy. He was the recipient of tonight's Addled Phone Call. I think my conversation stayed in the realm of generally-accepted English syntax, but I think the actual content may have left something to be desired.

Were I not feverish (and, therefore, capable of actually caring) I would grow incredibly annoyed with my current case of slow-wittedness. According to my own slightly-coagulated brain, the process of dealing with someone undergoing the slow rise of a fever has a lot in common with downshifting a car that's speeding down a hill: you force the gears to turn more and more slowly until the car / the friend / the semi-coagulated brain protein is capable of handling the current situation.

In other words, speak slowly enough and—hopefully—I'll eventually catch on and figure it all out. In the meantime, settle back with a fizzy drink and be amused as I fumble for my words.

After all, you know it's going to be one of those evenings when you sit at your computer desk, tapping the tendon below your kneecap in time with the current Underworld song because you find watching your leg twitching in time with the music to be strangely amusing.

Now imagine me trying to listen to Spock's Beard's new double concept album, Snow. Jeff was enjoying it, and, admittedly, so was I, but his analyses had more to do with harmony and rhythm, and mine all seemed to contain the phrase "Fire bad. Tree pretty."

Yep, time for another nap. Preferably before the world gets any more amused at my antics.

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Guh, sorry that you're ill. And here I was afraid that you were doing something silly like coding on Quarto ... ;)

Oh, and the entry number is entirely ominous ... :(

Yipes! :O

Gah, I think we both got the same thing. I bravely made it through Tuesday while feeling a little addled. Yesterday, though, about noon I just gave in and went home. I skipped Fourier Analysis and a half day of work, instead choosing to sleep and pray the fever would break soon. Of course, instead of taking another sick day like I should have, where am I right now? Not curled up next to Sean in bed like I want to be. Nooo.... I'm at work, typing away on my keyboard. *sigh* I hate my work ethic at times.

Evil germs must have jumped into your body. Take much zinc, drink many fluids, and perform the "screw you evil microscopic invaders" pagan ritual.

Maybe it's all your fault, Brian, since you were sick before the Con? :p

Hey, I tamed my germs before the con. She probably got something obscure from one of the 20,000 umwashed con participants. Or worse ... she got Buffy Fever from some obsessed fans.

There's just really no telling where I got it from. My only concern is that my job (tending to geeks) meant that I had close contact with most of tech staff. I'm just afraid I've given this to most of them...which would really embarrass me.

And to answer the question which probably immediately pops to mind: I'm feeling just fine. Go fig. Good thing, actually. I don't want to think about us both being sick at once.

Don't tempt the fates! :)