Out of nowhere, I have a cough. As near as I can tell it was caused by a bowl of raisin bran, but that makes as little sense to me as it probably does to you. I've been coughing all day, a cough both dry and phlegmatic all at once.
Around noon I decided that I had a headache and took to ibuprofen, but they didn't help.
In the evening, Kris and I watched Rushmore for the gazillionth time. "Feel my forehead," I said midway through.
"It feels normal," Kris said. "Are you sick?"
"I don't know," I said. "Where's my temperature gauge?"
The temperature gauge was not upstairs, so I waited until after the movie to find it. By then I was shivering uncontrollably. I am shivering uncontrollably now. My body is cold, but my ears (and forehead) are burning. The temperature gauge says I have a fever of 101.4, my highest temperature in 4-1/2 years. (My normal body temp is between 98.0 and 98.2.)
I am cold. And coughing. And going to bed.
On this day at foldedspace.org
2007 — The Ideal Schedule In which I practice my ideal schedule. In which it works.
2003 — Loverboy In which I have a soft spot for the group Loverboy.
11:40, end of first sleep cycle: 103.0. Parched.
I can only recall having three severe fevers in my adult life now. The first was soon after Kris and I graduated from college. We were at my parents' house for something or other, and I had to drive back to Salem. Not Fun.
The second was the above-mentioned Bad Soup incident, which occurred on the morning of the Fellowship of the Rings premier.
This is the third. I do not like a fever. I do not like it.