I’m bad at being sick. I know, I know, nobody enjoys being sick. But you can ask my wife and she will confirm it. I am the world’s worst patient. I refuse help. I refuse to admit when I am sick. By day two of my week with the high fever, I had n choice. I became a much better patient. Fevers have always made me weird. I could probably count on my fingers the number of times that I have had a fever in my life. I rarely get a fever but when I do, things get kind of creepy. Ask my dad, and he’ll confirm it. On the first day of my fever, I was very confident that bats were flying around the room. I also saw some bunnies, squirrels, raccoons, and other woodland creatures scurrying across the floor. I was aware that they were hallucinations but I had no power to stop them. My mind tends to wander aimlessly under normal operating conditions. With the fever, it was wandering aimlessly at a breakneck pace. I saw many past events flashing in my head. They weren’t good or bad events. They seemed to all be strangely irrelevant events. Although, I was hallucinating so maybe they were just weird fever dreams. I had a real doozy on day four. That might need its own post. I also got strangely sentimental over weird stuff. My baby girl was on the couch watching a movie to occupy herself. I was a worthless parent at that point and Mrs. Brother Jack was busy doing everything. We were watching the first Despicable Me movie. It’s a good movie but it has never been my favorite. For some reason, the end choked me up. The girls have been kidnapped and Gru is at the door to rescue them. Little Agnes says something like, “our Dad is gonna kick your butt.” At that moment I realized that I was weeping. Not just a sentimental tear but blubbering, snotty, sobs. Fevers make me weird.