A Weekend bathed in my own juices, er sweat

I am back. I know I did not post on Friday. Guess what? I was too ill to go to the Outlaws' place. I need all the energy I can muster not to shake them all. I know it would do no good for my father in law, but he could have used a good shaking fifty or forty years ago. My mother in law needs a good shaking. My brother in law needs the shaking that my father in law needed forty years ago. And so it goes...I must administer a good, old fashioned shaking to the whole Outlaw clan. Maybe then they will see the light.

It was nice to be home and chilled by seven on a Friday. I was able to crawl under the duvet, alone, and shiver to my heart's content. It was one of those "I am ill" weekends. Saturday, I got up and had breakfast and then went back to bed. I was fine for a bit and then would just pass out. I would wake up, feel semi-fine, and then pass out again. I took a shower and then had a couple of ibuprofen. I am lying in bed and can feel the sweat begin. I am wiping my brow and my tee shirt is just getting moist like an aroused woman. I get up, finally, and I have to go out. I have to change the tee shirt because I am afraid of it icing up when I go out into the cold of the evening. It is crazy. I actually went through three tee shirts during the night.

Sunday was better. The cold moved into my head and I had stuff to do by day. I took those ibuprofen in the morning. I was not really doing anything late in the morning when I could feel the sweat building on me. It is not a good thing. I do not mind it when I am working out, but just standing in the basement carrying up a basket of laundry, that does not work for me. I did survive the day, though and that is good.

Today, I am not really any better. The head is stuffed and alternates feeling like it is filled with helium and lead. I wonder if those paint chips that I liked to snack on as a child are starting to effect me. I do not come from a family of eaters, so there was not much in the way of snacks so paint chips were a real treat for us. That was the joy of growing up in the late 60s and early 70s. I liked the blue chips best, reminded me of eating robin's eggshells. I am not sure where tis is coming from, it must be the delirium.

I have to run and go back to my dark place. Ciao!