Seriously, when I’m not under a pile of duvet-and-cats, I freeze, but when I am under said pile? Owowowow. Owow. Ow. Everything feels discordant, inside and out. If I eat, my stomach feels all stretchy and full; if I don’t, it’s like acid is slowly but surely eating away at my insides. Even my tongue hurts. (The back of it. I have a very sharp tooth, which means every now and then I wake up tasting blood.) Advil does not kick in until about two hours after I’ve taken it. Crikey.
Sorry, dove. If it’s any comfort, that tooth is going to keep bothering you for years, but it won’t get any worse. Sounds like you had a gnarly flu.
Best part? If I fall asleep anytime soon, I can expect to wake up terrified. Never combine psych drugs and fevers. The dreams are simply not worth it.
Well. It’s not like you had a choice, there. Neither do I; that’s what Advil is for. Bring down the fever, you might sleep okay.
Now that I’ve chased away all but the hardiest reader:
Rewatched Lynley 4×01, In Divine Proportion. Had forgotten how awesome Burn Gorman is in it. Also, I am amused that they got Nat and Sharon in the same shot in completely contrasting outfits (he’s in a suit and tie, she’s wearing her parka, jeans, and a sweater). Love them. Love their chemistry, their characters’ friendship, all of it. Vivat.
Me too, sweetie. Me too. You just delight in that. I rewatched it with Tante Rosi (you’re going to see her in 2015! OMG!) and maybe she wasn’t as hot on it as I was, but it was my good memory. My happy place.