I hardly ever get sick (thanks, over-active immune system!), and even when I do, it’s generally mild. The whole family will be laid up with a cold, and I might have just a slight tickle in my throat for an afternoon or so. Usually.

Not so, this time. Olof has had a killer cold for more than a week, and it’s finally caught up with me. I should have known it was bad news when he missed an entire week of work, spending long hours in bed instead of in front of the computer. He’s not usually one to call in sick, and he ordinarily never naps, so it was obviously a doozy. And now it’s my turn.

I started feeling bad on Thursday, and even though Olof warned me about what was coming, I waved him off. When I didn’t feel better yesterday, I started to see the writing on the wall, and today I’m still not better. If anything, I’m worse. Ugh. It really is just a cold, but it’s a rough one. Apart from the garden-variety symptoms, I’m light-headed and exhausted and feverish, and my brain is just not working like it should.

I really don’t have time for this, with my thesis in its final stages, and it’s driving me crazy not to be getting any work done, but I just cannot focus. I’m so close to being finished and I’m itching just to get the rest written, but the thoughts aren’t coming. Luckily, I’m not in a huge rush, and I do have a few days to spare, but it’s still annoying. I’ve been trying to just power through it, but so far I haven’t been successful. I suppose I’ll give myself one more sick day tomorrow, but after that I really need to get back to it. Now, though, I think I need to get back to my bed.