I woke up in the middle of the night with my throat so sore, I could barely swallow. Matt woke up, too--I must have been saying "Ow"--and went to get me a cup of ice chips. I asked him if I had a fever; I was getting that chilled-fevery feeling. He said "You feel pretty warm, but there's only one way to find out." I said "I don't think our typewriter is reliable." He laughed and said "Yep, you have a fever." Ah, delirium. Later, after some ibuprofen, I said "It feels a little less hurty to smallow" and then I couldn't stop laughing. I fell asleep wondering why I had flipped the W into an M, wondering what life would be like if I kept flipping letters upside-down. Fevers--always good for a dose of the surreal.