As it turns out, he is five times more awesome than I and my immune system are, because whatever he had took me down swiftly and savagely. Before long, I found myself laying in bed with the laptop safely stowed away in its prone and locked position, waiting for death to take me while Morgan Freeman was talking to me through the TV about how there was another me out there, in a parallel universe, smart enough to avoid getting sick and was currently prancing through fields of flowers and sunshine and kittens-- lots of kittens.
Maybe the last part was a dream. I don't remember much after flicking on the science channel and succumbing to my fever. But I wasn't alone.
|Apparently I still had enough presence of mind to take a picture for my blog.|
I had my cats there to work their Magic Purr Powers on me while napping and receiving scratches when I could muster the strength for them. Okay, I did have to convince them to come lay with me (they are cats after all). It was not unlike when my cat convinces me at the buttcrack of dawn that he must get out of the room rightthenandthere, because his doom is imminent and the only way to escape it is by forcing me to wake up and let him out via a series of brief but ear-piercing yelps.
But just like I get out of bed to let him out, the Sickness Support Troupe came to snuggle and assure me that I would not die. And I didn't. Probably thanks to them. Or not, but they are magical, so who knows.
While I'm on the mend, keep a lookout for my excursion into the world of youtubing my cats. Probably tomorrow, or whenever I can gather the patience to wrestle with one of these video editors, which are being entirely uncooperative with my laptop at the moment.