Kel (ladyjoust) wrote,

  • Mood:
Don is, at present, plague-ridden and sleeping on the couch. Before you call me a mean old thing, that was his idea. Sleeping on the couch, that is, not calling me mean and old and a thing. He's had bouts of nasty, wracking coughs and a low grade fever that finds him alternately huddling under layers of blankets and flinging them off with abandon.

He was careful to avoid contact, to wash his hands, to keep a reasonable distance from me, but we live in a very tiny house. Before last night, we were sleeping only inches away from one another. In short, the damage has been done. I started coughing this morning after I got back from the gym. It feels as if there's a weight on my chest. I'm running a slight fever. The lymph nodes in my neck are uncomfortably swollen. Excellent. Looks as if I'm getting sick. I hate being sick. I've not been so in some time, and I swear, if there is any sort of violent emission involved in this bug, I am going to be severely pissed off.

I have to teach tomorrow morning. I just need to make it through that and I can come home and drink tea with lemon and curl up with kitties and Starman graphic novels and feel sorry for myself until this thing runs it's course. Or until Tuesday, when I have to teach three classes.
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