Kleenex, Kleenex, my kingdom for a Kleenex

 The week before last J had had a nasty snotty cold but by the time we went to Bendigo, she was more or less recovered.

At the same time I had a slight sniffle and a sore throat, but given Bendigo was as cold as home, and there was quite a bit of smoke in the air from people's wood burning stoves, I didn't really think much of it, and if I'd picked up something from J, it felt like my body was fighting it off successfully.

On the Wednesday, after we got back, I felt good, and was quite productive - must have just been the smoke in Bendigo, or so I thought.

Thursday morning, I woke up feeling like seventeen kinds of shite, my chest was tight, I was simultaneously shivery and feverish. In fact I felt so bad I wondered if I'd picked up Covid, but a rapid antigen test said no. 

Technically the test was past its use by date, but the TGA do say that most tests are good for 24 months rather than the usual 12 months expiry, so I'll assume that I don't have Covid and the test was valid.

However, sharing is never good in these circumstances so I cancelled my morning at the Athenaeum, working on accessioning t-shirts and stayed home and talked to the cats.

Strangely, they both wanted to sit snuggled up to me as if they knew I was sick and might need comforting.

And then, this afternoon my nose began to drip. With me this usually means a day or so when I go through an entire box of tissues, and then I'm more or less right.

Here's hoping...