Feel sorry for my poor beleaguered husband.
I am sick.
And not just "I'm not feeling 100% today" sick; more like I had a bad feeling when I woke up yesterday and my chest felt . . . mmmm, sticky? and I felt more fatigued than anytime except pregnancy. Then as I pushed through the slog of the day, I got to the last hour and a half, which ought to have been enough time to make good headway on The Thing Which Absolutely Must Be Completed By 10:00 AM Monday Morning Or The World As We Know It Will End (which, incidentally, is the same thing as what ought to've been completed by Thursday evening, but which got pushed aside in favor of working on the new budget reduction numbers). Yeah, I just got lost in my own overly complicated run-on sentence. Sorry.
The point is that I sat at my desk and started shivering violently, which is really unusual for me, barring sub-forty weather outdoors. So I pulled on a wrap I keep at the offices for just such emergencies, and was instantly boiling. I felt dizzy, so I gave in, called DH and said I was going home, and I'd sure like him to come with me. He came. I was still smiling and joking, so I'm not sure my bosses knew exactly how bad I was feeling, but meh, I don't care.
It was a long walk to the car and far longer drive home. Fucking Rodeo. Fucking me for forgetting my usual route has rodeo traffic and that Lady Antebellum were playing last night (which I know because we were offered free tickets which I turned down because of not feeling well). It took twice as long as usual to get home, and three times as long as it ought to have taken on the Friday before most of the city went on Spring Break before 5:00.
We stopped to load up on Dayquil and Nyquil, because frankly, by that point, I was a walking commercial for them. I felt really wretched by this point in time and very whiny. All of this, I might add, was made worse by yet another return of red spotting in no logical sense. My cycle is so fucked up, y'all.
Poor, sweet Dh has taken excellent care of me, but I am a giant baby when I am well into what I call "Mommy, I don't feel good" territory. A fever and the shakes and the resultness achiness and ouchy coughing of alarmingly yellow-green stuff definitely qualifies, by the way.
So all I have to say is thank God for my husband, and for Advil and Dayquil and Nyquil and holy shit, body, you suck. The weekend? Really? After the shit week I had? I hate you.
Also, still have to go into work to finish this damned report. Wah.