The plague of black bubonic death has settled on my house. It wasn't that big of deal when everyone else in my family had it. That is... until I got it. I felt it coming on late Friday afternoon. By Friday night, I was one hurting unit, attempting to extract sympathy from every corner. I had a fitful night of sleep and in the morning, I felt like 8 2.5-inch nails had been pounded into my head with a ball peen hammer. I spent the day sprawled on the couch, accepting any and all pity and sympathetic overtures.
By Sunday, my head didn't hurt as much, but it started to feel like my head was filling with marshmallows. That's where I'm at today. I can't think clearly. My lectures today were terrible (I did warn my students). I could not think clearly enough to prepare a coherent lecture.
I'm going to go to bed early tonight, but not until I extract a little more sympathy... if there's any left.