Now that the real Friday is here at last, I can bow in gratitude to whatever mystical (or earthly) force made it possible for me to last another week (especially this week). I think it was the Mayans who invented the calendar, right? Thank the Mayans it’s Friday.

It’s not as if I’m slipping and sliding into the weekend with a goofy grin on my face, though. That’s a little more than I can manage, despite the fact that I got a whole five and a half hours of sleep last night. (I had to sleep in until nine to do it.) Despite the fact that I had a wonderful hour of coffee and conversation with a friend this morning. Despite the fact that someone cares enough to call me long distance and check on me (free weekend minutes notwithstanding).

The light-headed feverishness (ooh, that’s a real word) I felt this afternoon had nothing to do with the coffee, either, unlike last week. This time I had only one cup, and it’s the only caffeinated coffee I’ve sucked down all week. I should have known something when I woke up with a sore throat this morning, but I wrote that off to allergies and sinus drainage. That feeling went away long before the dizzy heat smacked me down.

Under duress, I made a promise to someone (thank you, Someone) not to do any work tomorrow. I also promised to get out of the house and do something fun, but I don’t know if I’ll be keeping that part of the deal. It might be that the best thing for me is to stay in bed all day. Sometimes I think that’s the best thing I can do for myself every day (or at least every day until I start losing muscle tone and forget how to move at all).