Sick.
The outer layer and lower half of my body wants to go outside on this sunny day and Do Things. My internal organs from my diaphragm up through my sinuses and my brain are arguing that sleep would be the best course of action for the day. So I lie propped on pillows in bed, gazing out the window at the sun on the brown remains of last year's flower stalks in the landlady's garden, feeling fuzzy-headed, wanting to both sleep and run, doing neither. Ah, the sick.