Alas, it was not. It was cruel, cruel reality.
I crawl in the shower and feel better. I dress. Style what's left of my hair.
It hits me. I yell to Brad for the bucket. The pain. The discomfort. My head feeling like it's going to explode through my skull.
I grab my heating pad and climb into bed. And stay there for the next few hours.
I'm woken by a phone call. Otherwise, I'd likely still be there.
I make the executive decision to gather the important things (pillow, heating pad, phone for work emails/calls) and float downstairs in a daze - cause maybe I'll feel more alive in a different room.
I managed to slam myself onto the couch. Which is where I am now. I'm still on the couch. Good thing it's comfortable.
My head is spinning. But I've got two furry boys to hang with; one being a bit more cuddly than the other.
At one point I did take them outside. In my housecoat. I'm cool like that.
The sun was so hard on my head. The curtains are drawn and I'm watching the bachelorette. Go Andi. Like I said, I'm cool like that.
The flu has circled this house. It's hit almost everyone inside.
I really didn't want a turn.