It happened as colds do.
Me: What a great night to be healthy.
Body: Ha-ha! I'm going to punch you in the face with disease! All that energy you thought you had? It's gone now, sucka! Let's see you walk home after work now, [censored for posterity]!
It retrospect it was more likely the illness cussing me out but it felt like a betrayal of my body. I thought body and me were getting on great, but apparently that was all a horrible lie.
If this is about that thing we ate… Get over it. I said I was sorry and wouldn't do it again. In the near future.
Why do you think I take you running every night and not eat like my fat inner child demands? It's not just for our exterior, dangit. (Which, I have to give you credit, is awesome. So. Keep that up.)
Oh, and we're still going rock climbing Thursday, so you better shape up because that'll suck for you too if you keep this attitude up.
Love (but not right now),
Also, apparently being barely lucid puts me in the mood for house music. Rare. Odd. Going with it.
UPDATE: So...working out at the gym? Not something you're supposed to do mid-fever. The good news is I didn't fall off the treadmill, per se. My jeans also remained on despite my feeble efforts as I decided it got too hot.
UPDATE: I have found the meds. Buckleys was not created for doing shots.
UPDATE: Have been given one command: DO NOT GO TO SLEEP BEFORE UPS GETS HERE. So of course my body's all "You know we should do? Sleeeeeeep. Sleep! I'll make you feel so good, baby. Oh, oh! Are you going to blink? Watch me turn that blink turn into a nap. Don't even act like you don't want this."
UPDATE: ...UPS never showed. Those motherf-!
UPDATE: "WHY ARE YOU NOT PANTS?"
UPDATE: "I'm going to Jell-o the shit out of you." What does that mean? I don't know, but I said it. And apparently I was pretty certain of its undeniable truth when I did.