I had all these plans for the weekend. I was going to go to shul, and babysit for this wonderful toddler, and write the story that’s due for class tonight, and oh yeah, get work done.
Instead, I spent the last three days in bed with fever, chills, night sweats and aches, unable to string two thoughts together. When I did have lucid moments, I spent them doing the work I’d brought home, but there was no way in hell I was going to risk getting anyone else sick, especially not little kids, and I couldn’t think straight to write, so everything I’d planned was a wash.
On the upside, last night my mom came over with soup and butternut squash salad from a local restaurant and we talked for hours. I really love her.