Honestly, last night's hike with singingwren was a bit spur of the moment, and I thought I was over my cold or whatever it was for a few days now.
But I don't really remember the hike, or anything much about it before I fell over on the couch when I got home. I know I went because singingwren dropped me an email about the number of mosquito bites she got, and because my body is screaming at me never to do it again.
But last night, in my memory, is this fuzzy dream-like place where events occurred, but they had no connection. I remember walking under a bridge and watching a jogger run by, but I don't remember getting from the bridge to the place the jogger was. I remember stealing a waterbottle and seeing singingwren threaten to douse me in water that's left, but I don't remember how she got the bottle. I remember seeing the moon, but can't remember when it got dark.
I don't even remember driving home.
When I opened my eyes this morning, I would have sworn that everything I did last night really was just a dream. It's kinda weird. I don't feel sick, but I don't feel totally well, either. Like I said, my body hurts. . . It's that good kind of exhaustive hurt that you get after a hike, but it's more pronounced than ever.
The only way I can possibly reason this experience out is that being sick took a lot more out of my physically than I admitted to myself. And if that's the case, then it did a damn good job of it, because I've never, ever had this happen. . . At least, not that I remember.
But this morning my head is clear and I'm fully aware of what's going on, so there's no good reason to stay home and rot (besides, there's daytime TV there), so I'm in my office, working away.