typhoid mary

So my measly little cold last week has landed me with some the worst can't breathe, can hardly talk, congestion I've ever witnessed. I think my immune system was still vulnerable from my last instance of the plague, and turned something usually mildly annoying into full blown nastiness. I barely made it through my shift last night I was so miserable. I had to back out on my DvA reading tonight with after hours with many apologies, stayed home from work today, and spent most of the day on my couch. Not a bad place to be if I felt at all better than this. I'm hoping my voice is something like normal for an author presentation on Monday for class. All I know is, I've got my eye trained on blissfull Thanksgiving week, which, with the exception of classes on Monday, I have all week off. I feel like I've been running non-stop since September with various personal dramas, school, editing stuff, illnesses, no real weekends to speak of, no recoup time. And this is always the worst time for me mentally. I'm wary of psychiatrists and their plethora of drugs for everthing, I suspect I have a touch of seasonal affective disorder (along with social anxiety disorder, but I prefer to think of it as charming shyness) and since these trends aren't debilitating, I can live with them--"normal" and "healthy" is all relative, I suppose. But lately I feel...tense is the best word and everything is actully going pretty great creative-wise, relationship-wise, I should be basking, not stressing. I think I just need a long hot bath...one can amazingly work wonders...