POST-PLAGUE

I finally feel like I have recovered from The Plague.

After three-plus weeks of uncontrollable hacking, wheezing, chest pressure, and bizarre, intermittent fevers, I am finally in full recovery mode.  I am feeling so much better that I have already broken my pact to eat healthy.

Yup.  I'm eating store-bought cream-filled cookies right now.  With milk, though.  Milk.  M-I-L-K.  That makes it all healthy, right?  Okay, I'm eating healthIER. I'm trying.  Really, I am.  Well, maybe not THAT hard, but I have the best of intentions.

The thing that really fries me about the whole near-month of fighting off The Plague is my energy level.  I don't have my full stamina back, and I'm finding myself napping at inappropriate times.  Faculty meeting running long?  Ooops, I wouldn't know.  I dozed off for a few seconds.  Kids testing?  Still?  Oh, wait. I think I dozed off for a second.  Sit down and watch television at seven o'clock at night?  Ooops, bummer.  I fall into a deep sleep and now it's bed time.

So maybe I'm not completely recovered yet, but it was, after all, The Plague, or could've been.  It felt like The Plague.  I'm pretty sure that several times Monty Python trudged by my living room windows while chanting, "Bring out your dead!"

I'm pleased to report, however, that I'm not dead yet, at least at the time of this blog's writing.  If I can just wrangle some energy, I might jump for joy.  Maybe tomorrow.  Baby steps.  It was, after all, The Plague.