Yesterday my cold came back with a vengeance. It picked me up, crumpled me into a little ball, and discarded me, much like one of the used wads of Kleenex we’ve left scattered around the apartment during the past week.

I felt worse in the morning, but still made it through breakfast, writing, and shower as usual. I even went so far as to walk Gabe to the metro before venturing to the gym for a short workout and a sauna, which I thought might make me feel better. About five minutes into my very easy workout though, I realized… uh oh. All is not well. I could not for the life of me focus on the podcast I was listening to, and kept getting distracted by the silent TV screens, mesmerized by the dancing music videos. Not good.

I stopped early and headed for the sauna, but even there, I knew something was not right. It was like a giant feather duvet had been wrapped around my brain, and everything seemed padded somehow, fuzzy and far away. People in the locker room must have thought I was high.

I quickly showered off and headed back to the flat before I ran out of energy completely. Good thing I did, too, because I fell into bed as soon as I got back and pretty much didn’t move for the rest of the day, other than to shift from bed to office futon, and from there to the couch. Didn’t want to get too tired of any one horizontal resting space, you know. I consumed an entire novel in about eight hours (that’s the third book I’ve read this week!), and my most ambitious project was to do a load of laundry. Even then, it took all my energy to get it hung up on the drying rack before falling back into bed again.

I assume my fever must have come back, but as our overpriced Portuguese thermometer wouldn’t give a reading higher than 36.5 (normal is 37 degrees C), I have no idea how high it actually was. Oh well.

By the time Gabe got home at about 7:30, I was feeling well enough to actually carry on a conversation and sit upright long enough to eat dinner, but I still couldn’t focus on more than one thing at a time. Trying to do so produced strange lapses in my memory, such as when I was talking to Gabe while he was getting ready for bed. I was reading at the same time, and an hour later, I couldn’t remember having had a conversation with him at all. Hmm. That level of uni-tasking is usually his specialty, not mine.

Now, even after a good night’s sleep, I’m still feeling pretty exhausted, and may return to bed yet again. At least it’s still raining out, which makes a day in bed seem like not such a bad proposition. I realize that eventually there will be more to life than sick rainy days… but right now that feels like my whole world. I’m losing my mind here, people. And I’m going to keep on writing about it til you do too. Ha!

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