Sunday, January 23, 2005
or just wishing I were, anyway. Managed to come down with the flu overnight on Thursday, and spent the next two days sweating, shaking, and doing my best Jackson Pollack impression. Oh, and having a recurring nightmare that I really really NEEDED to write a lengthy paper analyzing The Name of the Rose, and then I would sort of half wake up and start composing paragraphs on monastery life and turmoil among the Catholic orders. All pretty horrifying, really. My temp on Saturday was hovering in the mid-97s, which doesn't seem good. Today I feel much better but have no energy at all. I think tomorrow's a wash, too... I picture myself walking to the El and collapsing in an exhausted but grateful heap somewhere on Irving Park. Bah.
Luckily, the world pretty much stopped for me (just as I always knew it would!), as we had a massive snowstorm this weekend that filled the yard with lovely drifts of sugar. As an extra bonus, I never had to shovel once.