I’m sick.

Yesterday I felt all spacy and weird at work, and all I wanted to do was curl up in bed. When work was finally over, I had to go pick up Kelly to get her car out of the repair shop. We stopped to eat and it was all I could do to hold my head up. She got her car, we went our separate ways, and I stopped at my friend Alyssa’s to feed her cat. By the time I got home, I was shivering, and sweating, and completely wiped out. I watched a movie (“Caché”), wrapped up in a blanket, fully clothed, despite the fact that my apartment is almost always eighty degrees.

I went to bed around 10:30, window shut (it’s usually open), in a long-sleeved T-shirt and long pajamas, shivering like mad. Somehow I managed to sleep like a champion, and that helped tremendously. I took naps on both my breaks (both of which had dreams AND drool involved!), had miso soup for lunch, and now I’m home, listening to the news on NPR.

Tomorrow I’m only working a half-day, so I’m going to take my car in for an emissions test (I’m sure it’ll pass, but keep your fingers crossed just the same. . .), transfer the title, get new license plates, and do some other stuff that I never seem to have time to do.

As I was leaving work, I thought, ‘Sure would be nice to go up to Mt. Tabor and watch the sunset. . .maybe take some pictures.’ But I didn’t have my warm coat, the sunset wasn’t looking too exciting, and I needed to get gas in the car, so I decided to give Mt. Tabor a miss and head home to recuperate. After all that, as I pulled up to park in front of my apartment, the sunset turned all pink and purple and I regretted my decision.

What did I learn?

Listen to my instincts.