Going rogue; or, why does my body hate me?

Sooo.... I got really sick a few weeks ago--around Valentine's day-ish.  Fevers, full-body rash (very pleasant) (still hasn't gone away) (benadryl is my best friend), and general malaise.  Basically, my body was rejecting me.  Going rogue, if you will.  Without me.  I missed two weeks of work from feeling generally awful, and the verdict?  LARYNGITIS.

That is the lamest excuse I have ever heard in my life, and I didn't even lose my voice.  I was tested for mono, strep throat, then liver problems (because I have been so uncontrollably itchy, which, apparently, is tied to liver problems)... Anywho, it nearly killed me, but I'm not dead yet (yes, I'm being dramatic), and I've been doing a lot of things around my house.  I'd take pictures, but I can't, not yet--at least until I get it all to the point where I'm satisfied.  I was on a roll, and then I got sick.  And now I'm not very inspired.  Isn't that how it goes?

It's funny though--there's some freedom in being sick; in staying home and concentrating all your efforts on just feeling better.  I feel as though I push myself really hard a LOT of the time, so when my body breaks down, that's about the only time I feel okay with sitting around and watching TV nonstop. 

Besides that, I've just been working a lot and trying to stay afloat as life is just busy.  I often wish it weren't so busy, but summer seems to be the time when things will slow down for us.

 

And here are my peeps, same old, same old.  Covered in snow.