These past couple of days have been miserable ones for me. On Friday, I stayed home from work due to an impending cold (I sounded like death walking), and over the course of the weekend, things steadily progressed downhill until this morning, where I nearly passed out on a trip back from the bathroom. Fortunately, I'm at the stage where I'm spewing phlegm from my lungs, so I should be rid of this bug soon. The funny thing is, my roommate recently got back from a trip to Taizé in France, and she ended up getting sick as well. My apartment should definitely be under quarrantine.
Ben was such a good fiancé and came by every day to wait on me hand and foot. I essentially moved into the common room - brought out my TV, set up the internet hub so that both of us could access the internet simultaneously, and set up three fans for the purpose of keeping the room relatively cool.
The one thing I really appreciate about being sick is being forced to take some time off to relax. I could lie around all day and do nothing and it was perfectly justifiable; I was sick, after all. I was under no obligation to do anything, go anywhere, or see anybody. Pure bliss...except for the hacking and coughing and the not being able to sleep through the night. But such is the price one must pay for a few days of relative vacation.