I knew it was going to happen. I felt pretty run down yesterday and kept assuming it was because I had a little too much fun over the weekend. I went taco tasting with Jeremy and eventually grabbed our friend Chris from the awesome La Cocina Economica and we ended up at Jeremy's watching the football game. Around 9 last night though it hit me, I was going to die. I wasn't just tired, I was actually going to die if I didn't go home.
I called Ben to come and get me because my car wasn't where we were when the feeling of DREAD hit me. He brought me home and I went to bed. This morning I woke up with a fever and a head cold. I went into work for a little while and got the station going for the day but basically got told by several people I should go home. So I took a sick day.
There's some bug going around at the office and I likely picked it up as well. Bryan's out sick today too. Small office, lots of germs.
Ben promised to check on me later. While I was curled up in a ball in my floor this morning willing away my possessions because obviously a 99 degree fever means I'm going to die, I mentioned to him that I wanted my dad and that I was certain I'd moved to the moon, 400 miles away from anyone who would miss me if I died so I could die of the Mongolian Death Flu and Lily was going to eat my face. Ben assures me he would notice if I died and will check on me and bring me some gatorade later. He helped me get ready for work this morning and told me it was okay if I had to puke. Ha ha. I didn't but it was nice of him to tell me that he wouldn't be grossed out.
I've never been good at being sick. I feel useless right now, even though I'm on my laptop in bed like a good little patient. I brought some work home with me too, like an idiot. I may be on death's door but goddamn it those taco tasting videos can get posted or something...
Bleh.
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