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The Lost Weekend, or Flu-Blogging

Sadly, this will not be a thrilling entry: my weekend has not been much to write about.

This was supposed to be the Great Productive Weekend. Any scrap of reading not yet accomplished was to be caught up and perused. The dorm room was to be cleaned to the extent possible with only one man and Formula 409. There was even the threat that outlines might have been started.

And then, at about 4:00 PM on Friday, my temperature rocketed to 101.4.

That's not too horribly high, until you consider that my healthy body temperature runs a little on the low side. Accompanying this fever was a splitting headache, which only got worse whenever I looked at a monitor. (Hence, the lack of blogging.) And by Saturday, things had gotten so bad that I spent most of the day sleeping, entertained by none-too-pleasant fever dreams.[1]

Saturday caused a bit of misery when my normal over-the-counter cold solution (Dayquil, Dayquil, Dayquil, NyQuil!) did absolutely nothing for fever or headache. At the advice of a nurse, I started taking Motrin, and thankfully that would break the fever for four hours, with the headache returning just near the end. So since then, I've been popping Motrin like an addict, and am very thankful to whatever man, woman, or beneficent angel invented ibuprofen.

In any event, that's why I've been running silent the last few days. Now I can just about bear to type on my monitor for half an hour or so. But annoyingly, the great "catch up with work so that I can take Spring Break off" initiative seems to have failed miserably.

Anyway, hopefully more entertaining news this week. As Scheherazade has advised, letting yourself get sick is one of the dumbest mistakes you can make.

(And a big thanks to everyone who brought soup, tea, oranges, and other needed supplies. I'm now in debt to you valuable members of the 113th Sheep Dog Brigade.)

[1]: Of these dreams, two stand out in particular. At about 5:30 PM on Saturday, I woke with the complete, if wholly irrational, conviction that one of my best friends from high school had died, though I couldn't for the life of you have told me why. I didn't call her--thank goodness, since that would have been an uncomfortable conversation--largely because her phone number was in my computer, and that screen-brightness thing made the idea too painful.

The other one, though, I wish I could remember, because it was a very complicated legal puzzle that I kept going back and forth with in my head. It had all the classics of good law school torture: paragraphs of questions that are left unanswered; critical ambiguities and a chronic lack of facts; and all I know is that I never found a reasonable solution. I think it deal with professional responsibility; if it comes back to me, I'll be sure to post it, although really, it probably wasn't actually lucid anyway.


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