Take One Step Back

Y'all are way too sweet with your concern about my under-the-weatherness, and I'm pleased to report that yesterday I felt much, much better. So much better that I jumped out of bed, showered, went to work, handled eleventy-seven phone messages and e-mails that had piled up in the two days I had been out, then scurried off to do some previously-scheduled community service.

It wasn't much fun, but as illnesses go, this one hadn't been unbearable--it was provable, what with its impressive numbers registering on the thermometer, but did not include barfing or stuffed-up nose, both of which are symptoms that I do. not. like. And let's face it, all of us secretly resent those unused sick leave hours that go to waste every month because we're over the accumulation limit, amiright? No? Oh. Just kidding, HR lady!

Anyway, I was congratulating myself on how I had well and truly conquered this bug when I woke up this morning and realized that...no.

Husband came into the bathroom to find me sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

"I feel horrible," I groaned. "My head hurts, and I think I'm going to throw up, and I'm all dizzy."

"In that case," he told me briskly, "you should probably not sit on the edge of the tub because if you pass out and fall over backwards you could hurt yourself."

I do believe Husband may have been Florence Nightingale in a previous life.

Back to bed. Again.