You can tell you're sick when...

I have spent much of the day not talking. After a week of sneezing and coughing, I woke up this morning with a sore throat. I managed to accomplish about four hours of work from home before calling it a day and getting out a can of chicken soup.

I was also tired. I woke up repeatedly last night from increasingly weird dreams.

Among the weirdest:

I was at Goodwood Plantation with my husband and my son and we were getting the tour. In the diningroom of the main house, the tour guide was extolling the virtues and accomplishments of one of the owners. "What did he do?" I asked. Apparently he carried a strip of wood into the house for the edge of the diningroom table. "You mean he didn't even put it on?" I asked incredulously. "He just carried it in here?"

In the next dream, my husband and son were gone and I was dating this man:

Owen and I were staying at a romantic bed and breakfast with lovely clawfoot tubs. I suggested a bath and he began disrobing. When he got down to his underwear, he took them off and there was another pair underneath. In all, he removed a week's worth of underwear. I asked him why he was wearing so much underwear. And he said, "My mom always told me to put a fresh pair on every day!" "But, Owen - you're supposed to take the old underwear off before you put the new pair on!!!!"

Don't ask.

I hope I get some REAL sleep tonight. No wood strips. No Owen Wilson with tons of underwear. Just sleep.