I am officially sick.
After a brief spell of feeling better, N--- shuttled me off to the Doc in the Box yesterday afternoon, mid-way through the first disc of season four of Battlestar Galactica. After hours of waiting, the verdict came back: Influenza, Type B.
Doc said that I should be on the down-side of this by now, since I've been feeling ill since Wednesday afternoon, but he prescribed the meds, anyway. A "quick" trip to the only local pharmacy still open after 6:00 PM on a Sunday got me what I needed, so it was back home for lasagna (yum!) and more Battlestar. When I finally cratered, N--- & I had just finished the first disc, and she made her way home. Mad props to N---, too: Drives all the way out from the other side of the universe, puts up with sick ol' me, takes me to the doctor, comes back, goes for a run, comes to get me, and still can sit through hours of sci-fi with me. Definitely says something of the perks of being an endurance athlete. No wonder I want to marry this gal.
So, here I am, at home, playing the pathetically sick boy. I managed a run up to the school to make copies & instructions for the sub and to grab the last stack of journals that I need to grade, meaning I will have plenty with which to occupy my time, just in case sleep doesn't overtake me. For now, it is time for a bit of breakfast. Wash thoroughly, and thanks for reading.