Poor rats, poor me

I've most been feeling sorry for our pet rats because they haven't had anyone to play with. In a normal day for them they spend some time with Cam and some with me and maybe some with whoever else might be visiting. But Cam went to Alaska for a few days and came home sick and I've been sick all year (ha ha) so they've been cooped up.

Because they are descended from lab animals they get colds and upper respiratory infections very easily so no handling them and infecting them. It's lonely and dull for them.

But today I felt more sorry for me. I can't sit up without coughing so much I throw up. I took some cough medicine last night that had expired in 2006 (I though the 6 was an 8) and spent the night waking up every three or four minutes from a dream in which I was falling. Frightfully tired all day, really unable to keep my eyes open for a lot of the day and thinking very slowly, thoughts like tortoises. I only wrote about 100 words, the least I've done in more than a year, and barely managed to get my work done.

My head isn't as stuffy so I'm wondering if I'm getting better and if I just hang in there a bit my cough will get better or if I'm being stupid and should go and get my chest listened to post haste. I can hear all these little musical squeaks coming from it...