So my body decided that it needed a forced shutdown. Wednesday I woke up with leringitis - which pretty much takes away my voice and saps my energy. Annoying, but still workable. Thursday morning I woke up with the stomach flu. Which is a lot less workable, and I stayed home from work to sleep.
Normally, I can have a love-hate relationship with being sick. On the one hand, of course you feel awful and look awful and there's just nothing fabulous about it. On the other hand, though, it does give you some down time. Catching up on TV shows (which I haven't done in a while), reading, eating ice cream and other "invalid" foods.
But the stomach flu is an entirely different matter. I was too tired to watch or read anything. All I did was curl up underneath a blanket on the couch and shut my senses off to the world. If I wasn't sleeping, I was too miserable and nauseated to want to do anything except die. Forget ice cream and other treats; it just made my stomach more upset and I was stuck with eating ice chips and that's about it.
I have, since then, returned to the land of the living. I did get some reading done in between being awake and asleep. My voice has been returned to me and I can stand up and walk around without feeling like I'm going to pass out. But I'm still very exhausted. I feel like a sponge that has been wrung out one too many times, and what appetite I possess is still totally and completely gone.
Tonight I meet four YA authors, and while I probably should just go back to bed after my shift at work, there's no way I'm missing these authors. So glad I get to sleep tomorrow.