Yesterday I had the silliest little cough.
Early this morning, when I went to bed I had a little temperature.
Come three or four a.m. I was alternating between shivering, sweating, and crying for my mother.
Despite this, it still took me ten minutes this morning to realise that I really couldn’t go to work.
It also took me ages to get both enough warmth and enough energy to unearth something to dampen the fever.
I slept, off and on, for most of the day and continued to shiver and cry and be all alone.
The moral is that sometimes it sucks to live alone. Especially when you think you’re actually going to die of fever.