Fever.

My old friend.  I wondered when you'd make an appearance.

Last night was about Night Three of little-to-no sleep, despite the heady brew of sleep aids.

This morning, I awoke to what felt like a pretty epic hangover, but ... hadn't drank a drop.

We walked into town.  Life was surreal (partly, it's a Guatemala thing), and I headed back to the hotel to crash.

Success.

Awoke feeling hot.  Checked Ye Olde Temperature ==> 101.9*F.

Ugh.  Bunches of water.  Couple of aspirin.  Back to bed.  Tomorrow should be eyeglasses day, after which we'll plan our exit strategy from Antigua, at least, and Guatemala, at most.

Nothing really serious causes this kind of low-grade fever. It's just a guy with a Primary Immune Deficiency NOT living in a bubble.

Gonna' try to sleep it off, and -- for future reference -- earn any hangover that comes my way.

Ciao for now, then, from ... the hyper-pyretic ward of ... The Gulag.