I'm not sick, really, and don't have a fever. Although I do feel draggy and grumpy from lack of sleep.
Six hours of sleep is about all I can force upon myself in normal times, but in the three weeks I've had this seemingly never-ending cold, I'm lucky to get four hours. I seem to wake up sometime after midnight, either coughing, snotting (sorry for the mental image) or both. I'll lie there hoping I go back to sleep, but eventually I can't stop coughing, and I feel sorry for Cliff and leave the bedroom.
My eyes are scratchy from lack of sleep; energy is nowhere to be found.
I've had this cold for three weeks. I thought colds only lasted for a week to ten days.
Normally, in winter, I'll get two or three mild colds. I certainly hope this one is it for me, because I've paid my dues.
At some point, if this continues, I'll see my doctor.
I hate journal entries like this; I hate to whine. There are people dying with cancer, people with incurable diseases. What right do I have to whimper about a cold?
Oh well, I've vented. I feel MUCH better now.
(Added later: My normal body temperature is 97 or below; I took my temperature earlier and the thermometer read 98.9; I guess I DO have a slight fever.)