I was lucky to get Justin to school this morning before collapsing back into bed. I’d forgotten that cold sores are viral (hooray for my dr!) and that they make me feel lousy. Three of them at once makes me absolutely fucking miserable.

I fell into this near-coma where I was dreaming about going to the gambling boats every single day, and then Tori convincing me to move to England (where she’d just moved). The dream ended when Justin had just flown transatlantically to see me - by himself. I knew there shouldn’t be a phone ringing incessantly in an airport gate.

I chatted a bit with my dad, then IM’ed Mike. Told him that after closer inspection of my lip, there were three huge blisters and about 20 small ones.

Two hours later, lunch arrives in the form of Mike with broccoli soup and pumpkin muffies from the Bread Co. Oh my gosh, my hero!

If there’s been a sweeter heart I’ve known, my head is too full of virus for me to remember. I’m better at ducking emotional punches than appreciating wonderful people and gestures like lunch when I’m sick.

After he left for lunch, I left for work. Thought it would be nice to make an appearance at my own office after being out nearly a day and a half. Of course, I shouldn’t have bothered. All it did was wear me down to the point of exhaustion.

And then, on top of it all, I got to my parents’ house to find Justin there with nearly a 102-degree fever.

We’re just two sickies today. It’s ugly. But I’m guessing we’ll live.
(Ice-cream-less, but that’s okay, I guess.)

Ready for bed,

michelle