Sick sucks, but has its moments...

I've slept for 72 hours in the last 5 days. That means I've been awake for about 48.

I have some sort of virus that completely knocked me out, and sent me scampering home Monday morning at 10 a.m. after a pretty valiant attempt at actually going to work. In the car on the way home, in fact, I was doing that thing you do when you're feverish: shaking and whimpering. Audibly whimpering.

And sweating.

The only time I got up Monday and Tuesday was when the boy showed up and made me drink liquids and when I sweat through my sheets so badly that I had to get up to shower, change my sheets, and go back to bed.

It was MISERABLE.

But there were perks.

In two days, this is what I ate:
4 Otter Pops
8 spoonfulls of soup
5 spoonfulls of ice cream
2 bites of bread

This non-eating policy my stomach launched over the course of the past week had a delightful side benefit. When I finally got up Wednesday morning feeling slightly better, I went to the bathroom in a bra and underwear to brush my teeth and was greeted by a pleasantly super-flat stomach and tinier than usual waist.

"Huh," I thought. "Well, at least there's that." I might have had the energy of an Ethiopian boy, but I was looking lithe. And I was feeling much better. So much better that I could go to work.

So much better that after work, I thought it would be a good idea to celebrate my newfound health at a work function with 4 to 5 tasty beers along with my colleagues and executives (we wone a big award, so everyone was celebrating).

And that's when the perk turned on me.

You see, a girl with a virus who doesn't eat and just sleeps and sweats for two full days has the alcohol tolerance of an eight year old. I had nothing in my stomach but beer. And I was feeling good!

Until 7 a.m. Thursday, when I woke up with a hangover like I've never had before -- and guess who was baaa-aaaack? Yep, the fever, the chills, the sweating -- the virus. It hadn't gone away, it was just taking a break. And when I let my guard down and thought I was cured, it came back to bitch-slap me for my stupidity.

Yesterday wasn't such a hot day at work. And though I was sick and brutally hungover, I toughed it out (after all, everyone had seen me feeling SO good the night before... I couldn't possibly take another sick day). The only upside there is that everyone else was so hung over too (no kidding -- literally everyone was dragging ass, and we're a 100+ person company) that nobody noticed me in my office, bundled up in a coat, scarf and slippers with the heat full blast, shivering and sweating like no tomorrow.

Today, though -- today is a new day. I'm hydrated, I'm still boasting the tight tummy, and I'm not drinking a drop this weekend. Because I hate sick. Sick sucks. And I'm never doing it again.

Have a happy, healthy Friday. Do something your body will love you for, for once.

[Note: Don't worry -- once I'm back to 100 percent, all this positivity about "your body is a temple" and whatnot will inevitably fall to the wayside and I'll be back to my usual antics, but until then, humor me, will you? And think happy, healthy thoughts. And send me presents and sympathy emails. Thank you.]