Anyway, the photo speaks for my condition. (I still have my sense of humor, after writing that sentence "Tradition! Tradition!" from "Fiddler On The Roof" echoed perfectly). This is me after much cold water and the washcloth is now warm enough to use for heating things.
Actually the photos just look like I'm fat and I'm flushed and maybe my hair is thinning (it's not, it's just plastered to my scalp by sweat, which is actually an even less attractive thought image).
Which reminds me, I discovered "Portlandia" last night and it's on Netflix streaming so if you do watch it definitely start at the beginning because even though it's sort of a sketch comedy type thing, it's a lot like the "Kids In The Hall" "Touch Paul Bellini" or however he spells his name. It's not necessary that you know he was the only other writer on the show, and the only one who didn't perform unless he was ... well, silent and naked but for a lone white towel held up by one hand on one side most of the time.
My heart has stopped doing a weird skip and hop thing and the retching seems to have abated. Dogs aren't going around the block again today. The front lawn will have to suffice. Three hours of sleep after my body already wanted to collapse isn't helping either.
Sigh. On the plus side I've a TON of things to play with or create with or even just read or watch. Yay for media! I've even got my Tascam DR-08 to sing to if I get in the mood to sing. I miss playing with people. Maybe I should take a page from Kurt's book and croon quietly into it and see what comes. Of course all this is later - you know, after my body stops considering painful attacks the best way to communicate with my mind.