Sick As A Dog

I actually just looked that up. I mean, Molly isn't up all night, pounding back Nyquil, hacking up a lung and sneezing into a pile of tissues, all while rubbing Vicks VapoRub on the bottoms of her feet, chest and nose. Well, it turns out that the saying dates back to the 17th century, but in reference to a dog eating nearly everything and anything THEN hurling it back up when it disagrees with him. "Being sick" in Britain means vomiting and "feeling ill" is what I'm enduring right now. I haven't been this sick in forever.

Thankfully I have the luxury of laying around feeling sorry for myself today. It doesn't help that I broke a tooth a few weeks ago and now that's hurting, too. I'm just a hot mess. It's so bad I actually broke down and made a doctor's appointment for today. Let's just hope that I don't go only to find out that it's a virus. I wonder if my tough workout yesterday compounded the problem. I did an interval run on the treadmill and pushed myself through 4 miles, alternating between 6 and 6.5 mph laps for the first 2 miles, then running 1 minute at 6, 6.5 and 7 mph for the last two miles. After that, I got on the elliptical and could only manage 15 minutes. I was tapped. I coughed a little bit (into my sweat mop and NOT all over everything and everyone), but nothing like I am now. I feel like Cameron in 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off'- "I'm dying."