I have been lethargic and dragging for the past few days. I didn't have any sort of explanation for it - just this dull apathy that seemed to permeate every part of me to the point where I felt as if any little thing might be just the reason I would burst into tears.
Friday I finally succumbed and went home early, just to try to shake off the melancholy. I said I was feeling sick, even though it wasn't a physical malady I thought I was dealing with.
Imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning to a sore throat and a stuffed-up nose. Richard has been fighting this all week and apparently it's my turn. The general lethargy finally makes sense, and I'm grateful to know that at least it was merely the buildup to a bout of winter flu and not something more. I am not the type of female prone to mood swings, so to be experiencing such a thing was extremely disconcerting.
I have rested all day today, as much as I have been able. Both of us are low on energy and frustrated over our bodies' betrayal. We had plans this weekend of working on those dratted bookshelves, but unless we're both suddenly brimming over with health tomorrow it seems the bookshelves will be, yet again, postponed