A profound disinclination to any kind of exertion: this is what you've infected me with. For two days until the fever broke last night, I was desperate to not teach, not move, not think, just sit, eyes closed, letting images swirl and play before my mind's eye, till sleep enfolds me. No congestion, only flitting headaches, a little totteriness, really the only symptom was the overwhelming lassitude. As soon as I had finished any duty, I closed my eyes and drifted deliciously.
What have you done to me, microbe? Somewhere deep in my lungs you found a niche and made it a stronghold. My gallant white cells launched attack after attack, gnawing you wherever you were found, and my thermostat system opened the dykes and flooded me with heat. I was fairly glowing.
You came on like this week's blizzard, intense and extended. I'm surprised that something with so little warning could lay me so low. Hours in the evening just dozing in an armchair.
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