Hello, gentle readers. The Lone Woman is mysteriously ill. Or, perhaps, I am felled by a mysterious illness? Either way, this will be a lame post.
Not to be all whiny about it, because that's Five's job, but I'm just not myself. I've had low level stomach pain for a week now, a rash has bloomed on my face, and I'm exhausted. No; more than my usual exhaustion. Fall asleep behind the wheel, or whilst typing, exhausted. Today, I laid down on my bed fifteen minutes before I had to get Five from his bus, and I awoke to the doorbell ringing. My neighbor had been kind enough to get him and drive him home. It's not good, people.
So, I have an appointment with the doctor. It takes a lot to get me to the doctor. And, I'll admit, the rash freaked me out almost more than the narcolepsy. My face is old skin, but it's good skin. I don't break out, and it's relatively wrinkle-free. I'm afraid the doctor will diagnose it as something benign, like rosacea, because my skin is also Irish, and pale. And all the other symptoms will just be viral. Which is why it's annoying, and a little disappointing to go to the doctor. I don't really want a serious illness, and I'm happy to feel better than Lora, but it's hardly worth the trip for something picayune.
I just spent the last half-hour sleeping through the end of "Castle," so now I'm off to bed for more of the same. I'll let you know how it all turns out. I've most likely got a case of old-chick-itis, or worse, peri-menopause. If that's true, you may not hear from me for a few days. I'll be in bed, crying.