My house is a petri dish. A dish of germs that grows and multiplies. And then I, evidently, come along and lick.
John went to preschool this year and had a random fever virus a month ago. I really thought he'd be much sicker, being around all those new kids.
Sarah went to kindergarten and has gotten one sinus infection - which she is prone to because of her allergies - and that's it. I thought she'd be getting sick more often because of the new kids.
Me? This week is killing me. Monday I had what I thought was a random fever virus. I felt great on Tuesday and even 'ran' on Wednesday. (let's be clear. 'Running' for me was day one, week three of couch to 5K. It was a 25 minute run/walk. ) Thursday I woke up did my morning deal and by 11:00 I was looking for any surface, clean or dirty, soft or hard, to lay down. I took my temperature. Fever. And sooo low it barely counted, 100.5, but it was enough to kick my butt. By 1 o'clock I was full on sick. What? How?
I spent the day dozing on the sofa while John played and watched a lot of TV. He also drew the cutest pics for me, to make me feel better. I went to bed at 6 o'clock. It was bliss. Thank God for my husband, he did dance, dinner and bathes without any help from me.
I woke up this morning to . . . still a fever. So I'm going to the doctors. Does my body not realize I don't have time for this crap?
** My blog is still under construction. The comments won't work, neither will the pages, until I get the innards figured out. Hopefully today. Thanks!**