The Sweaty Panty Barometer of Health. in The Napkin.

I woke up yesterday with that very slight scratchy in the back of my throat. You know you’re not actively sick, but it’s coming.

Tore through my deadlift session, moving many kilograms of inanimate objects. Felt great. Showered, ate. And noted that my hands and feet felt cold.

Gee, that’s not right.

Took a nap from roughly 5am to 8am, and felt like a goddamned truck hit me. Naps usually have that effect, but this was more than usual. Muddled through my Thursday morning Aldi run. Couldn’t focus on anything.

I don’t really do anything fun on my days off, but meh, it sucks when you can’t focus on anything.. Went to bed around 1pm. Got up around 10pm. Lotta tossing and turning, incoherent dreams.

Decided to roll the dice, and hit the gym for my OHP/pull-up session. Exercise can make you feel better. Muddled through. Missed some reps. Eh, I’ll get them next month.

Noted that, in contrast to my usual weekly rhythm, my libido is absent. It’s a low bar, but consider The Sweaty Gym Girl. If you’re gynosexual, there would be something hot about her sweat soaked undergarments.

But in my current state of sickness. The thought of a sweaty gym girl makes me feel excuse me, ma’am, can you please shower, you smell.

Haha.

I know I hit the gym “this morning”, but I’m still thinking of calling out. Fridays always suck in terms of sleep. And all I need is a little rest. The whole trying-to-be-a-hero and sucking it up just gets you nowhere in life. It ain’t worth it.

Only in Murica would we have to argue with ourselves about WHETHER TO WORK SICK.

I’ve been a good boy. I should call out.