In Which I Take Ill

This is my world right now. I am hopelessly sick with some exotic (probably flu!) malaise. And, yes, like almost everyone else who has fallen victim to this evil plague, I got a flu shot. (Well, they are admitting that it was only 30% effective...)
I have been stumbling from the bed to the bathroom and I even once ventured downstairs. That was a big mistake. Yesterday morning, I actually didn't feel too bad initially and thought to accompany Robin on her morning ablutions. By the time I had staggered out to the fence in the dark and cold, I was wondering if I'd have the strength to make it back indoors before Bob found me- several hours later- blue, frozen and very much a goner. Being made of doughty stuff, I shuffled to the door and made it inside, somehow fed Robin and yes! I swear! I started to see stars! I sat down on the bottom step as the world began to spin and go black. This was not good. Bob happened to come downstairs at just this moment and if I could have seen his face as the world performed a tilt-a-whirl inversion act, I am sure he would have registered alarm. (He said he did; I believe him).
I made it to the bathroom and got very ill.  And back to bed with me!

Yes, that's the stack of books and magazines that would be great to read if I could concentrate for more than three words at a time. I did succeed in paging through a nursery catalog and detect pretty colored plants. Or something. Maybe it was a medical supply catalog: they all look the same to me right now!
The worst part of this sudden descent into hell is that I was supposed to go with Bob to a Horticultural Symposium in Hartford today. He sells his metal work at these affairs and we get to listen to plant geeks lecture about garden design and pollinators and it's a healthy and delightful antidote to all that is nasty and vile in this country. There was-unfortunately- no question as to my attendance. I hope he makes money and has a good time.

Meanwhile Nurse Ratchett- I mean Robin- thinks I'm fooling about being sick and is whining and pawing me (to make sure I'm still alive) and insisting that I get up and have fun dammit! She has settled down some what, but I'm sure that for a young, healthy and rambunctious dog, this is another kind of hell. She's been trying to entertain me by throwing (variously) her Kong and her beefhide chews over the bed and then diving to retrieve them. Nice try!
The only good thing about this episode is that I most certainly will be well for my opeing in NYC next weekend. I have already threatened to make a grand entrance ala Frieda Kahlo on a stretcher in an ambulance. (True story). Stranger things have happened!

*For anyone interested, my symptoms are as follows: chills, alternately dry wracking cough, phlegmy, sticky cough, watery eyes, dizziness, soreness like I am being beaten by a baseball bat (alternating with being beaten by a ping pong paddle), aches, headaches... and then my face hurt. This sucks!