Ode to a Virus
O rice bag, how I adore your heat,
To chase the fever chills,
And Tylenol, thou art a magic pill,
To cool me from one-oh-three.
The headache's throb,
And the grinding-bone ache,
Conspire to keep me limp,
Unable to read,
And my pillow is stuffed with rocks.
Yeah, it's been a fun couple days.
Apparently I was in tears last night, because Naia (my cat) said he was going to get me some Tylenol, but then never came back. I have no memory of the conversation with Shaun, during which I think I did get some medicine, but I quite clearly remember Naia telling me he was going to get the Tylenol. He had a nice voice, very deep and soothing.