SXSW 25 is a wrap, and I had a decent time, despite things.
This year, my buddy Doug was up for south-by shenanigans, so we had a text chat going to say when we’re downtown, what we’re seeing, where we can meet up, etcetera. For once, both of us were in good health and high spirits.
Unfortunately, I’m out of shape and didn’t pace myself by taking a night off, cutting evenings short, or paying for more pedicabs. I wore myself down and caught the Con Crud. By Friday night, last show, I was feeling beat, drained, uninspired. I needed sleep more than anything.
By the time I woke up Saturday morning, I knew that I’d been had with something virile. So much sinus pressure. Eyes bursting. High fever. Malaise. Sore joints. I called Saturday off. The best day. Missed the chance to see Fragile Rock. Ugh.
Today, I am finally well enough that I’m considering going to the office tomorrow after WFH for 2 days.
Currently at the cafe having coffee, admittedly too soon (probably at the point in the virus lifecycle where it convinces the host to be sociable). Sitting outside. Hand sanitizer. Etcetera. Fresh air.
I really should’ve worn a mask all last week. But I didn’t. Carried one. Carried my CO2 sensor, too, but never turned on alerts for bad air like I should’ve. I was just “WOOOOOH” bare-faced to the world. COVID ain’t the only thing out there. I knew, by the way the edges of my nostrils were itching Friday afternoon that something was oncoming. And then boom.
Well, at least it wasn’t food poisoning this year. Ugh.