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I tend to be a pretty health person; last year, for example, I didn't miss a single day of work due to illness. Yesterday I perhaps found out the reason why.

I hadn't been feeling well all week, thanks to the big events last weekend preventing any rest Saturday or Sunday. By Thursday afternoon, I was just all the way worn out, so when on Friday morning I woke up still feeling poorly I went so far as to contemplate calling in sick.

Which of course filled me with guilt as soon as I had the though: after all, I'm up and walking around, and don't feel that bad, right? Also, I can't—ever—seem to get my temperature up to 98°, so there's no chance of the thermometer telling me I have to stay home on account of fever. But Leah told me it wouldn't be the end of the world, and the folks at work are (especially this year) encouraging us to err on the side of caution, health-wise. So I called in, and went back to bed.

And as soon as I did, I really felt sick. It turns out I can do a pretty good job convincing the body that we need to keep going—a relic from my days outrunning lions on the plains, I guess. Watch out when I tell myself that there's time for a rest, though! In bed most of yesterday, and still not allowed out to walk the babies this morning. So that's where I was yesterday.


I hope you feel better soon.

Thanks! I'm somewhat better already... at least I got out of the house a bit today.

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