Well, the year is now new.

My erev Rosh Hashana was lovely; I led part of services, gave a sermon, and went to a lovely dinner at friends’. Rosh Hashana morning, however, I woke up feeling… off. After five hours of davvening and leading Torah discussions and running around and generally doing my part to make things go, it was clear that I was sick as a dog. So I went home, slept, woke up the next morning, found that I was indeed still sick, and went to go lead services and give another sermon and take on a couple of ritual jobs I hadn’t planned to have because there are certain days you don’t call in sick. I think people down the street could hear the the sound of the thud as I hit the couch around 2pm. Fortunately, nobody needed me to be anywhere until Shabbat afternoon, when I had to go teach my usual class, so I could rest a bit.

(I did my best to keep a reasonable distance from people; anyway, I don’t think that whatever form of igck this was, that it was a contagious bug. But, obviously, I wasn’t going to be risking folks unnecessarily.)

I’m still sick, actually. Unfortunately, this isn’t a week in which there’s any time that I can take off, so I’m just going to hope that the thing works itself out of its own accord and try to give myself as much rest as possible in-between, well, everything. I have an appointment in a day or two to see a dear friend who is a genius acupunturist, so I’m hoping she can work her usual hocus-pocus on me and do the thing where I come in sick and leave healthy.

I don’t mind being sick–I mean, it’s a drag, but it happens. Next year, though, I’d prefer if it happened during Cheshvan instead. (Not this one, though, mmmkay??)

Time to think a little more about what I’m going to say on Yom Kippur. G’mar tov, one and all….

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