Woke up yesterday morning with vague nausea that, over the course of the morning, developed into general slight flueyness and a heavy stomach. Nothing crippling, but that nagging sense of "not-rightness" that is more of a harbinger of real illness than any specific symptom.
When you're self employed, life is dominated by the simple equation "work equals food" - or paying the gas/leccy/phone/ broadband bill/mortgage payment, you get the picture. One thing I have learned over the years though, is to know when to give in; a day lost to recovery now can prevent extra days of illness in the future. It was a lesson hard-learned; back in 1994, when I was inking Marc Hempel on Sandman: The Kindly Ones, I tried to keep going through what seemed like a persistent cold, only to end up collapsing so badly that I was off work for more than six weeks.
So I spent as much of yesterday as I possibly could sleeping (except for when my belovèd, the lovely Dr.F, succeeded in smashing her own head in on a concrete clothes-post, and I had to administer cold compresses and then nip down to the chemist's for some Hirudoid™ cream, the things we do for love) which seems to have done some good - I'm feeling well enough today to alternate bouts of work with bouts of dozing, though it's so hot and humid here I honestly can't tell if I'm feverish or not.
*For any American readers, "Lurgey" = "Cooties"