Not dead!
Do have Sydney Death Plague, though, thanks to Mr B.
Friday: Come home tired from ukulele, sleep in spare bed due to Mr B being ill, wake up with hacking cough.
Saturday and Sunday: Throw Mr B into spare bed, spend entire weekend in bed with aches and chills and fever plus hacking cough. Survive on bottled fruit and water.
Monday: Call doctor. Doctor says, 'You sound very rattly, is that pneumonia?' Me: 'I thought it was flu! I don't know? Can I come and see you and you tell me?' Doctor: 'Come tomorrow, try not to die before then.' Me: 'I feel worse now.'
Yesterday: Visit Doctor. 'What have you broken now?' Me: 'Nothing! I have flu, remember? I called you yesterday, you were alarming.'
'How's your thumb?'
'It's fine, see? But how are my lungs?'
'Oh, they're temporarily horrid, but they're naturally super, so you'll be fine in a few weeks or a month. It's not flu by the way, there's a horrible mutant cold thing going around.'
'But the chills? The shakes? The fever and the incredible joint aches?'
'Yep. It's like flu, but it's not.'
'So what is it?'
'It's a week in bed. Go home and back to bed. Get up next week. Here's a medical certificate.'
Today: I am out of bed! I am dressed! I am still standing! I will go to work!
Get to work.
Realise I have made a terrible mistake.
Spend two hours doing 15 minutes' worth of work to get out new flatplans for the next issues.
Follow wishes of all coworkers and go home before I pass out.
Pass out.
All with only the internet I can piggyback though my iPhone as Mr B decided now would be a great time to change ISPs, which has been about a week of nothing so far. When I kill him, I expect everyone to testify in my defence.
If you hear anyone with a hacking cough, run. It's vile. And I don't even know what it is. However, having spoken to several other people who have had it, if we can find Patient Zero, they're likely to be in deep, deep trouble.
Friday: Come home tired from ukulele, sleep in spare bed due to Mr B being ill, wake up with hacking cough.
Saturday and Sunday: Throw Mr B into spare bed, spend entire weekend in bed with aches and chills and fever plus hacking cough. Survive on bottled fruit and water.
Monday: Call doctor. Doctor says, 'You sound very rattly, is that pneumonia?' Me: 'I thought it was flu! I don't know? Can I come and see you and you tell me?' Doctor: 'Come tomorrow, try not to die before then.' Me: 'I feel worse now.'
Yesterday: Visit Doctor. 'What have you broken now?' Me: 'Nothing! I have flu, remember? I called you yesterday, you were alarming.'
'How's your thumb?'
'It's fine, see? But how are my lungs?'
'Oh, they're temporarily horrid, but they're naturally super, so you'll be fine in a few weeks or a month. It's not flu by the way, there's a horrible mutant cold thing going around.'
'But the chills? The shakes? The fever and the incredible joint aches?'
'Yep. It's like flu, but it's not.'
'So what is it?'
'It's a week in bed. Go home and back to bed. Get up next week. Here's a medical certificate.'
Today: I am out of bed! I am dressed! I am still standing! I will go to work!
Get to work.
Realise I have made a terrible mistake.
Spend two hours doing 15 minutes' worth of work to get out new flatplans for the next issues.
Follow wishes of all coworkers and go home before I pass out.
Pass out.
All with only the internet I can piggyback though my iPhone as Mr B decided now would be a great time to change ISPs, which has been about a week of nothing so far. When I kill him, I expect everyone to testify in my defence.
If you hear anyone with a hacking cough, run. It's vile. And I don't even know what it is. However, having spoken to several other people who have had it, if we can find Patient Zero, they're likely to be in deep, deep trouble.