In which I can barely even think.

Sunday I woke up sick. And pissed off about it, too, because if you’ll recall I WAS JUST SICK and it isn’t time yet to be sick again. But sick I was. And pissed off about it, too, but I already said that.

Point is, my aunt was calling because my uncle was sick too and needed help setting up his computer and his ‘net connection at the new shop. So I let her come pick me up and then spent about four hours plugging stuff in and then cursing at a stupid little USB wireless adapter until it finally agreed to respeck my authoriteh.

I finally got home and collapsed into bed, where I promptly began to have a terrible fever.

It hurt. It sucked. I didn’t enjoy it one bit. I finally managed to crawl to my purse and get a Tylenol into my body and the rest of the weekend passed somewhat more coherently. The few hours I was actually awake, that is.

Now I’m at work. I am dizzy and cold, but I don’t actually feel too bad. I mean, when I’m not coughing I feel alright. Mostly I’m just out of it.

I came to work today because I close, and if I call in sick someone else has to work a ten-hour day. Not to mention that I’m taking 3 days off in two weeks to go to GBM and I’ve only been working here for four months and I don’t want them to know I’m a flake quite just yet.

God, I feel like crap. Stupid germs.