Burning up

"Someday you're gonna wish
You'd taken better care of me."

-- Sleepsinging, The Damnwells



I just came out of my coma.

I went to bed Thursday night, and that's the last thing I clearly remember. At some point Friday morning, Joe was standing over me in bed, angry about something. I remember trying to get in the car to get Zoe to school because she had missed the bus. I think I had the good sense not to follow through with it because I couldn't see straight to back out of the driveway.

And then I remember getting a call from my mortgage broker saying I was approved for the house I haven't even looked at yet. I remember THAT very clearly.

Or wait, was that yesterday? Or today?

Anyway, I got out of bed long enough today to make Zoe lunch. I felt woozy again, so I gladly went back to bed. And much to my surprise, I slept some more. I have beaten my old record of 17 hours of almost-continuous sleep by a long shot. I got up again at dinnertime, only because I hadn't eaten anything in 48 hours and I think my body gave up on trying to make saliva.

Joe not only tiptoed around me this whole time without offering so much as a dose of Advil, but he isn't making eye contact with me. When I asked him if we had a fight, he said he didn't want to talk about it. I just can't remember.

Maybe I don't want to.


I'm starting to sweat again. Back to bed.