I've been feeling tired for a couple of days. Achy. Out of breath after climbing up the very long flights of stairs to yoga. Took a 2 hour nap on Saturday and yesterday was so exhausted it was hard to move.
Took a yoga class anyone and felt/feel aches and pains in my legs I've never felt before.
In spite of being profoundly tired last night I couldn't sleep. I don't think it was the Giants win in the championship game—the reason other people in my house were wide awake. I was on the verge of coughing all night, my head throbbed, not in a headache way but in a skull too tight around my brain way.
And this morning it was hard to move. I managed, not sure how, to take Jack shopping at 8 for a Giants conference champions t-shirt and hat. Got him to school.
Got back in bed. 3 hours later I woke up with 100.7.
I thankfully don't get sick often because with illness comes anxiety that something terrible is wrong. It makes it hard to relax and heal when horrific scenarios dance easily through my head.
Nice though that it's Monday and I'm alone until 3. But as day 2 of my commitment to write, I'm left with very little energy to craft anything.
Back to bed.
Hope tomorrow's better.
Hey, hope this afternoon's better.