The FLU sucks

Holy crap, I am sick. I went to bed two nights ago feeling a little ill. I don't know how I can manage to buy Nyquil twice a year but yet never have any when I need it. So I went to bed and had that tossing and turning kind of night. The onset of fever also seeped its way into my dreams- Amber was laying on the bed with us, as usual. Though in my dreams there was 20 Ambers on the bed and each time I tossed and turned I surmounted one pooch, oh so many more to get over before I would have the blankets to keep me warm.
Anyway woke up Thursday morning and watched my temperature steadily rise until it was 102.5. I dropped Gray off at my mom's house and came back to the couch where I took my newly-acquired Nyquil and slept uninterrupted for 5 hours until it was time for Gray to come home. I had that hot-pocket thing going- I was alternately freezing and shivering, yet under the blanket you could have baked a potato.
Whimpered and whined for a while on the couch, asked Matt if I could sleep in the bed alone and set out for my night of misery. I was both melting and terribly terribly shivering all night, at time the sweat dripping off my face would wake me up, my hair wet, my pajamas stuck to me.
I got up at about 7 this morning still with a low-grade fever. Ate a banana and drank some juice, took even more Tylenol, and promptly fell back asleep to sweat and toss. Matt came to check on me and couldn't believe how red my cheeks were.
As I sit here now, my throat hurts so much I can barely swallow and I probably have an ear infection. Misery thy name is Jenni.

Any type of sickness leads me to become overly dramatic, proclomations of death abound, and I whine even more than usual, if that's possible. Should you attempt to call, text, post here, or email me, be prepared for said whining and death-talk.