I let my fever do its job until it got up to 102. Then I took some Tylenol and crawled into bed, falling into a deep sleep full of insane dreams well before 8 pm.
I'm less achy today, thank God. I kept looking at my arms yesterday, expecting to see them covered with bruises. I still have a fever, and my throat is not my friend.
I know you don't care about all this, but I do. See, I'm trying to get well for this weekend. I have to. Because I desperately want to go to the Piedmont Craftsmen's Fair. I may not make it Saturday, but there's still hope for Sunday.
(As an aside, the first name on the Glass list is undubitably the best name since Titan Barksdale, who sorrowfully left town for greener pastures. I would KILL to be able to hold out my hand when meeting someone and say, "Thor Bueno".)