On Friday I went down to CollegeTown to hang out with my friend and her husband. We have had this tradition where we go out the Saturday before Easter. We’ve done this every single year (with the exception of one) for the past eight years.
This year we decided to push our tradition back as Easter was the weekend before my half marathon, and I figured I’d “be on a detox week.”
Fun fact: That was day two of my week long bender with Steph. Fun fact 2: It was also the day I met GCB. Timing, it is weird.
Anyway, we pushed our tradition back to this past weekend. We had every intention of taking the town by storm, dressing up, and dancing our asses off. Then we went out to dinner.
And Ann came home and registered a 100.1 degree fever. Fucking great.
I should have realized it after I woke up Saturday morning thinking that I had just broken a fever, but mistakenly thinking there was no reason for it.
So let’s count. Friday night. Saturday night. Three different bouts of a fever breaking yesterday during the day. And at least two last night.
When you have a fever and are totally incapable of regulating your own body temperature, it pretty well blows.
At one point I was so cold I think I was clinging to GCB like a spider monkey. At another, I could have sworn that if he touched me I would have exploded into a bajillion droplets of sweat. Apparently I was radiating heat at one point.
I’m trying to convince myself that I do not have another one today. Mostly because I’m going to the hockey game tonight. There is nothing that will keep me from this game.
Priorities, my friends.
I guess a good thing about being sick is calling out of work and spending the entire first half of the day in bed.
Going to work tomorrow’s going to suck.