Last Monday at 2:30:01 p.m., you could have pushed me off of a very tall building, and I doubt I would have cared.  I had officially started SPRING BREAK!  That gloriously decadent three week span of time where I foolishly talk myself into all the amazing stuff I can manage when allowed to dream about the endless hours ahead of me. 

And then THE GIANT GERM hit.  I was in complete denial, of course.  It was just allergies, I kept telling myself.  Even as I hacked and coughed at the doctor's office, and he asked about "the nasty cough," I just passed it off as "allergies."  I walked through a large cloud of pollen walking my little "dears" to their reward on Monday.  I'm just coughing up the after-effects, I explained.  I was sure of it.  I was tired the rest of the day, and I even napped, but seriously.  I've been running at break-neck speed since January ... trying to accomplish massive amounts of work.  Anyone would be tired, right?

Wednesday rolled around, and I knew the inevitable was to occur ... the FIRST MOWING OF THE SEASON, and I didn't relish the thought of doing that with an audience.  So, at 11:30 a.m., I drug my hacky, coughing, and runny-nosed self out and spent the next hour and 45 minutes dragging my tired hind end around my corner lot.  It's such a lovely thing, having a corner lot, until one must get their rear in gear to actually mow it.  Then, not so lovely. 

I barely got the yard mowed without completely passing out, which I thought was very odd in light of all the added exercise/conditioning I had been getting for the last three months.  I was stymied.

I barely got myself together after the torturous mowing, before I collapsed on the sofa and napped NUMEROUS times that day.  Even the achy joints I was suffering with did nothing to convince me that I was doing anything other than fighting allergies.

Fast-forward to Thursday when, at last I decided to be proactive ... and by proactive, I mean, I was curious to see if I had a fever, seeing as it was 80 some degrees out, and I was sitting on the sofa shivering. 

Yep.  Fever.

But I was still convinced that I was nothing more than run down from allergies.  In fact, that is the way I motored through the rest of the week ... until Saturday, when Better Judgement finally got a hold of me, shook me violently, and convinced me to get to urgent care, wherein, I was prescribed 500 mg of some antibiotic or another in attempt to kill the OUT OF CONTROL sinus infection that had some how managed to take up residence in my sinus cavities.

My stomach doesn't like me now, but I am on the mend.  Although, I suspect it will be well into June before these sinuses finally give up the last vestiges of "ick" that currently hang out there. 

Let this be a lesson to you, my dear reading public.  I am not invincible, and despite my soon-to-be-acquired advanced degree, I am somewhat, how should I put this?  DIM-WITTED when it comes to my physical health. 

Why else would I live with Ned (as well as ted) Nodule(s) on my thyroid for two months before I finally decided that it was, perhaps, beneficial for a doctor to, perhaps, feel around on them ... just to see ... maybe ... you know, check to see if it was anything serious?

My dad might be right.  I might, in fact, need a keeper ... someone that can talk some sense into my obstinate, thick-headed skull.


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