At the docs on Wendesday, the nurse took my tempature.
“Oh, that’s not too bad.” she comments. Then she looks at my chart.
I typically run cold, about 97 degrees or so (that’s um, 32 Celsius?).
“Well, there is a new infection going around…” as she puffs up the BP cuff around my arm. “It starts off like allergies, then it kicks your butt.”
So it’s eight last night (and I did a full workout after work) and I’m this side of comatose.
I go up to bed around 8:45.
“Hey Steph, I gotta go.” Says Steve.
“Aren’t you coming to bed?”
“Uh, no. I’m going to work.”
“I have to go to work now.”
“Oh, that sucks.”
And on a long weekend? Come one body, why would you do that to me?!
(and for all of you motherly types, I am taking medicine…)