I am ill.
More than ill, really. I am a puddle of sick in the vague shape of a human being. I didn't think I was going to be this bad, until I got to work and proceeded to vomit twice. Vomiting is always a horrible experience, but, curled up over a questionable toilet , wheezing for breath between dry heaves, reading encouraging messages *carved* into the walls like "Kill Yourself," the simple act of vomiting is a whole 'nother thing.
My limbs feel like someone has replaced my bones with lead bars, my skin is hot & clammy to the touch, my throat is parched, and my words sound like they are being shoved through gravel. I'm home now, curled up in front of my space heater, re-reading 13 Little Blue Envelopes (Ginny is at the pub with Keith), and taking long swigs off my Sobe Elixir.
In a bit, I will give in to a voluntary coma for a few hours, then, hopefully, awake refreshed enough to shovel the driveway from the expected foot or two of snow we're supposed to get.
I sincerely hope to live through this day.