...And now it's my turn...

So, apparently my body has been waiting for me to get to my vacation before it let go and finally got sick. Because yesterday marked the start of my week-and-a-day off, and at four in the morning this morning... well, it was pretty grim. And then it was equally grim in a completely different way at about eight o'clock. And then I went back to sleep - sick and dehydrated, no less - until about eleven fifteen.

Remember last Thursday, when I was complaining about being inspired by a new story idea because it meant that everything else would promptly fall on my head? Well, there you go.

On a related note: I have weird, weird dreams when I'm really sick. The ones from this morning involved being trapped in an unstable, partly-collapsed, and partly-collapsing old mine complex. And in those brief moments when I sort-of woke up, I was so far gone that I wasn't sure where I was. I mean usually, I know which bed I'm in... and what direction I'm facing... and whether I'm lying face-up or face-down. This time? Not so much.

But I'm up, and I'm going to sit in a hot bath and read, and try to drink liquids (and hope that doesn't court any new disasters). Hopefully I'm now past the worst of this.