Touch Me I'm Sick

Monday, man. Better known as ton of bricks day. Woke up with a sore throat, not feeling the best but not the worst. Should have been fine - a full eight hours of sleep and only one beer for dinner. Made it to the office and perked up a hair over a nice warm cup of green tea. For five minutes, I felt great.

Then I started going downhill.

My head grew heavier and heavier as my sore throat torqued itself back to its painful position. Energy levels quickly depleted and I knew damn well that I was going home early on the sick train. Lunch didn't do much for me, and by 12:30 I knew I might as well get the hell out. In reality, I stayed around the office until 2pm and then caught the first train out. I nearly fell down the stairs things had gotten so heavy.

It was a long ride home. Not helping the matters was the absence of my Q train at Union Square. Trains during the day are slow to come, and I must have just missed one and had to wait the long one. After the train, I stopped in the local grocery store for DayQuil and OJ, then finally made it home. A warm shower and then lights out, bed. Barely got up for dinner, I ate one piece of toast, half a bowl of soup and a chicken nugget, which took me 5 minutes to eat. Head pounding all the while.

I've gotten better since then, of course, but still haven't made the full recovery. Every morning, I'm full of this nasty phlegm. I have coughing bouts. I get headaches. I spit up loaves of bread that are brown and sticky.

I also get weird energy spurts. For example, I ran quite possibly a personal record of 3 miles in barely over 25 minutes last night at the gym, which is like an average of 8:20 per mile or 7.2 mph.

But the sickness: it's still around, and reminds me of Mudhoney's classic: Touch me I'm sick.