Whoa, Sick

      It probably got me Monday, either at work or the store.  Maybe even the doctor's office, though they're all still masking up (voluntarily).  Or possibly even earlier; I was sneezing off and on all weekend, and blamed allergies.

     Tuesday, I woke up with a scratchy throat and gargled some warm salt water, figuring I must have been snoring.*

     By the end of the day, I was dizzy and aching all over.  After I got home, I started having chills and went to bed early, wrapped up in a flannel nightgown and blankets, shivering in the 74-degree air.

     I woke every few hours last night, and this morning I'm still flamboyantly sore (hey presto, you're ancient!) and sinus-struck, though not as chilled.  Big fun!  I'm eating breakfast now and will run a coronavirus check soon, just to make sure.  It's not like the course of treatment is especially different.
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*I'd like to tell you that I snore as delicately and charmingly as a cat. I'd like to, but I'm told on the blessedly rare occasions when it strikes, my snores can be heard all the way down the hall and sound like someone trying to cut green wood with a dull handsaw.  It's been known to wake me up, after which I lay there trying to parse the awful sound that ended before consciousness had fully flooded back.