Almost Human

This is one of those blogs where I explain I’m not blogging.  Yeah, I hate to do these, and I suspect you hate to read them.  However today is the first day in a long time that I woke up completely clear headed and I’d like to push through and finish the mystery, so I can finish the (2) space operas, before my editors kill me; so I can finish Shifters before Evmick kills me.  My chest is still congested and my friends have threatened me with seven kinds of death if I exercise today — so instead I’ll just write.  Particularly because I only know five kinds of death and I don’t want to get educated in that.

A quick explanation of how I got so awfully sick — and, having talked to other people, I really think this is the illness that started in October which has been going slightly better then much worse in a steady spiral.  You see, being 48 I’m menopause-hypochondriac   As long as the symptoms aren’t OBVIOUSLY some illness, when I start dragging and feeling irritable (which I DO feel when I’m dragging and I’m trying nonetheless to work normally) I assume “Oh, it must be starting.  About time I had some symptoms.”  And because until the last week it wasn’t PATENTLY obvious I had chest congestion, I dismissed the episodes of sore throat and stuffed nose, etc, as “oh, allergies on top of going menopausal.”  Which is why I haven’t gone and got meds before.  And why I kept trying to power through the almost-finished book and getting annoyed at myself I couldn’t.

You know, bodies should come with idiot lights.  That way when my “upper respiratory infection” light came on I wouldn’t start imagining “I’ve entered da changez”.  Truly, a flawed design, the lack of those.

Now I have meds, and I’m improving, but it will probably take a couple of weeks to normal, and I suppose till then I have to sort of baby myself, at least on the exercise and physical work front.

BUT today I finish the book, because tomorrow I’ve pencilled in for sleeping and reading trashy novels.  So there.