Well, it took about 12 days or so, but I finally managed to see my way through a horrible fever virus, called Pharyngoconjunctival Fever. It was awful. At first, I tried writing, thinking that the fever would add some sort of elusive creative spark, and drive me to new feats of eloquence... but in the end it became more and more challenging to make sense of anything at all, and I had to pack it in, and settle for misery.
Being sick sucks. I hate it, and so should you... and if you don't, then you need to seek help. I had a sore throat, a chest cough that hurt but wouldn't do anything, a runny yet stuffed nose, and eyes that felt like they were full of itty-bitty shards and splinters of broken glass. My eyes still feel awful, actually... but the worst part was the day-after-day endless marathon of fever. Not a little fever either, not the kind you can put a brave face on and soldier through. I had the wrapped-in-a-blanket-shivering-uncontrollably kind of fever (at the peak, I hit 103.8 and I was on no less than three different OTC meds!)
My throat still aches a bit, my cough is still there, and still not very productive, and my eyes still feel horrible, like they're packed full of grit... but at least I can think again. Fevers are the worst...
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