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06/25/2002 Entry: "Psychosomatic."

When I was in 7th grade, I was mysteriously sick for about three or four weeks. I would seem well enough when I left for school, but by the time gym class rolled around I would have a fever, and the school nurse would call my mother to take me home. It wouldn't have been suspicious except that it always happened just before or during P.E.; it might be noted that I had quite a backlog of work in my math class immediately afterwards, so if I missed out on P.E. too, that would have been a bonus. But my memory is bad, and I don't remember if the backlog of homework was the cause or the result of being sick for so long.

I can't say what was going on in my head at the time, except that my temperature really was elevated—it would have been difficult to fake it with the school nurse, and I don't think I'd have even thought to try the light bulb trick until I saw Ferris Bueller years later.

So when the boyfriend asked me last night if I had a book report due, I had to think about it for a second. In retrospect I might have been well enough to go in to work today, but I elected not to; given my cough, I'm glad that I didn't. The only dilemma this presents is that I might not be able to take Friday off like I had hoped, but we'll see what I can arrange.

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