Down. But not out.

I caught a little of whatever the hell has been going around the past few weeks.  I feel like death warmed over.  I came home last night, took my temperature, and found out that in fact, yes, I was warmed over.  101 degrees.  I went to bed, stayed there basically all night.

I wouldn't have gotten up this morning except, I had to pee.  And then, I had to get dressed and come into the office and deliver some training.

What I am not doing, actually, is any baking for Matt and his co-workers.  I'll send treats for Valentine's day, but they won't be homemade.  Sorry kiddos.

We are having a bake sale at work next week - perhaps I won't be grody then. 

Grody.  That's right - I'm invoking the 80s.  I feel grody.

There's also this sort of stale bar/unwashed fratboy smell in our area.  I noticed it yesterday but thought it was just my sick nose making things up.  Then the pregnant woman two desks away mentioned she smelled something like pee.  So maybe I'm not having olfactory hallucinations. This week.

I'm going to find lunch.  I still feel a little feverish and I'm contemplating Noshville for a Chicken Soup Fix.

Today is Foundling Day.  Thinking of my  ex-, and always beast.  Of course.