The reason this description of Jacob Marley's ghost appeals to me this morning is simple: I still feel half-dead. The punky exhaustion I had yesterday continues to hang on. I haven't thrown up. I haven't taken my temperature, but I wouldn't be surprised if I had a low-grade, malarial fever. I did take another Motrin when I got out of bed to get ready for work, but even my hair was hurting when I took my shower. I'm not sure how hair can hurt, but it did.
Therefore, I feel like Jacob Marley. Dead and miserable. Thank God all I have to do in class today is administer my final exam. If I actually had to teach, I'm not sure I could do it. However, I do have the energy to sit in front of the classroom and watch my students struggle with some multiple choice questions. If I sit perfectly motionless, maybe I will create some hot vapour of my own, agitate a few things.
That's all Saint Marty's got this morning, folks. And his hair still hurts.
|I'm not feeling quite this punky|