I have a cold.
It's true; I've succumbed to sickness. My throat is sore and my chest is congesty and ... dammit, I have a cold.
I am the world's worst patient. So much so that I'm getting on my own nerves. I am needy and whiney (two of the lesser-known dwarves) and I sniffle a lot. I'm gross.
And all that is to say just this: Sometimes, you get sick. Granted, it's been awhile for me, but there are times when you have to admit that the bug has caught you and lay low for awhile. Do that early on, and chances are (please cross your fingers) it will not hold on for too long. Refuse to take care of yourself and you give the virus something to hold on to. Not gonna do that.
So, much as I want to be at the gym tonight, chances are I'll head home and into jammies. Much as I want to lift weights and dance, there is probably an 80 percent chance that I'll recline on the sofa instead. I hate that, but I also know the quickest route back to my routine is to give my body time to fight off the sickeness. Which is not fun, but it has to be done. (Hey, I made a rhyme.)
There you have it: my silent plea to the universe to let me get better so I can be at my best. I'll slow down for a few days. But after that, all bets are off.