I hate being sick.
I’m holding water down now, but I’m running a fever and I’ve got aches and chills. Writing about it is helping me to NOT make whiny noises my family has to listen to.
When Patches was sick last week he practically took care of himself. We came downstairs and found that he’d quietly filled his bucket, wiped his face, and was back to watching a movie.
When Link was sick early this week, he was the same way.
Me, though… I shiver, groan, and ponder death. If I DO die, I’ve got a week colored and uploaded, and another three weeks inked. Sandra’s in charge of finding somebody to wrap the current story per my notes.
My notes are pretty sparse. It’s all up here *points at head*, where I have exactly zero blood-nannies to haul my sorry, whiny, shiny tuckus back from the beyond.
Based on the best data we’ve got (three children worth of baseline), I’ll bounce back sometime tomorrow around 8pm. Then again, none of the baseline cases were as whiny as I am.