The View from my Sickbed, or Couch, as It Were

There is, I presume, a shortage of ginger ale in the region. I can't say for sure, because I haven't been out of the house in a couple of days, but I'm reasonably certain I have, during this time, drunk all of the ginger ale in New Jersey.

I've had a cold.

The other day it seemed to be passing, so I did some chores and ran errands. This dropping of my guard allowed the germs to regroup in secret. They rallied Thursday evening and sent me into a fever. I spent the whole of Friday braising at around 102F. Friday was extra long too, because my irritated sinuses kept me awake until at least 3 a.m.

Over the last couple of days I have gone through two boxes of tissues, a roll of re-purposed toilet paper, the entire first season of Bored to Death (which is amazing), a half-dozen BBC documentaries about art and artists, most of Netflix, and gallons of ginger ale. Gallons!

The good news is my fever has been well under 100F the entire day, and my various other symptoms are steadily decreasing. Having learned my lesson, I will continue to rest up. If I'm still running a fever on Monday, I'll visit the doctor. He'll tell me to get plenty of rest and drink lots of fluids. He may prescribe some antibiotics if he thinks it's a bacterial infection. By the time I've acquired the antibiotics, and they've had a chance to kick in and do any good, the infection will, almost undoubtedly, have essentially run its course. Like sands through hourglass, so are the days of our lives.