Achy chills fever

A1 Timeless classic feels a lot like the original piece with heartaches. It might been pitched down and slowed but that might just be me, It feels very slow but so very chill. It might seem scary to some people but I think it's very welcoming. 10/10
A2 Repeats a lot, The sample is nice but then again it repeats over and over which is pretty boring. Not focusing on the repeating bit I feel it gets quieter and loading in some different parts of the song. Its kinda of like A1 in a way where I feel it could be scary but it feels welcoming 5/10
A3 is Scary and just a little bit twisted in the wrong areas, it scares me but then again it sounds amazing. Still repeats the sample over and over but I still love it. It's very scary and feels to me like a wolf in sheep's clothing 8/10
A4 Ballroom dancing alone is the only way I can describe this sample, is not repetitive at all its so mesmerizing and scary at the same time. This piece feels friendly. 10/10
A5 This one feels wrong in so many ways it feels like playing a piece on an out-of-tune piano and stopping halfway. It's very quiet and makes me slightly uncomfortable. 2/10
A6 Feels like a fever dream and I can't put my finger on any of the tunes. I feel woozy listening to this and it makes me feel unwelcome to what's coming. I feel this plays when you're at the beach but you're tired and sick and you can't focus on anything that is going on. 5/10
B1 This feels like my great grandma's house after she died. It felt like less of a place than it once was. Holding memories that I would never get to experience again. 8/10
B2 This feels like my home after I've come home after a long trip late at night and seeing all of the things I had left behind that are in the same place that I had left it. Feels welcome but also sad seeing as im done with my trip. 6/10
B3 Feels like going to a place youve seen in photos before it was abandoned. Knowing what it once was but seeing it all run down and out of its prime. It feels sad but I still know what it once was. 4/10
B4 this one feels contempt. Like tying a game but you still felt you did well. Its a nice tune but yet it fades in and out like your falling asleep after a long day of school. 3/10
B5 slow dancing in a graveyard. Something feels off about this one, very creepy with the right intentions. I guess just everything about this album is off in some way. 4/10
B6 this one is like ending a chapter in your life. It makes me very sad but happy, like im looking onwards and upwards so to say. This feels good to listen to nothing feels off everything feels like it should be there. It makes me think, what really matters? How is what i doing worth while, why cant I just be happy forever. The end is very unnerving how it stops though 10/10

I have serious baby fever haha but my husband is more logical and wants to wait another 1-2 years. I am 30 and he is 28. Together 6 years and married 1. So I am looking for any signs that hubby may be ready sooner.
I got off birth control over a year ago. We used condoms every time for the first 8 months after that. When I got off the pill, I started religiously tracking my cycle (I use the Ovia app). I track my BBT every single morning as soon as I wake up at the same time. I haven’t missed a day. I also track my cervical mucus. We always use a condom for the first half of my cycle. And then if my BBT has stayed high for three days in a row combined with egg white discharge that preceded it, we then have unprotected sex.
We started doing this about 4 or 5 months ago. When I first brought it up to him, he was surprisingly chill about it. He is a BIG over thinker and has anxiety so that surprised me. For the first 5 years of our relationship (basically until we got married) he insisted on using a condom in addition to my birth control pill nearly every time we had sex. So I was quite surprised when he didn’t even ask questions about this method. Heck, for the first 2 years of our relationship, he ran the condo under water every time after we had sex (despite me taking the pill religiously during this time as well).
So a few days ago, I decided to sit him down and tell him more about the method, show him everything in the app, and just let him know that going forward I will probably be showing him my cycle in the app multiple times a week (to take off some of the burden from me and so that I am being more transparent). He thanked me for showing him and explaining everything. But he still seemed super casual about it, even though I told him this method s a bit riskier than others. He didn’t have any questions and didn’t express any concerns.
Anyways, maybe I’m looking too much into his reaction. Could this be evidence that he may be ready for a baby soon? I like to think so lol.

New Chapter on every MWF (Monday, Wednesday,Friday)
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Chapter 20: The Storm's Fury
Gribble huddled in the depths of the cave, his heart pounding wildly as the fierce thunderstorm raged outside. The heavy rain and ear-splitting thunder created a scary symphony, unlike anything Gribble had ever heard before. Each booming thunderclap made the cave walls shake, and small rocks fell from the ceiling. Gribble's eyes darted around the small space, looking for any sign of safety, but the storm's anger seemed to fill every nook and cranny. Fear gripped his heart as he worried that the whole hillside might cave in, trapping him alive in the cave. The damp air was thick with the smell of wet dirt and the sharp tang of fear, and Gribble's skin tingled with goosebumps as the temperature dropped. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stay warm and calm his frazzled nerves, but the storm's power only seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.
The shadowy figure stood tall at the mouth of the cave, its form unmoving despite the heavy rain that pounded the outside. Gribble squinted his eyes, trying to figure out what the creature was through the curtain of darkness and the never-ending rain, but the details stayed hidden. The figure's posture was steady and scary, its broad shoulders and muscular build hinting at a tough enemy. Gribble's heart raced as he watched the figure, his mind imagining all sorts of terrifying possibilities. The creature's stillness was creepy, as if it was waiting for just the right moment to attack. A wave of dread washed over Gribble, and he instinctively pressed himself further into the cave's shadows, desperate to avoid being seen. The figure's presence was a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond the cave's walls, and Gribble's survival instincts kicked into high gear as he thought about his next move.
A blinding flash of lightning tore through the night sky, filling the cave with an eerie, otherworldly light. For a split second, the creature's identity was revealed, and Gribble's eyes widened in horror as he took in the sight before him. Standing at the cave's entrance was a dark blue Thundercat, its muscular body rippling with power beneath its sleek, electric blue fur. The Thundercat's eyes gleamed with a predatory intensity, reflecting the lightning's flash like two pools of melted gold. Gribble's gaze was drawn to the creature's long, razor-sharp sabertooth fangs, which glinted menacingly in the momentary light. The sight of the Thundercat sent a wave of primal fear rushing through Gribble's veins, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. The stories he had heard of these legendary beasts paled in comparison to the reality that stood before him, and Gribble knew that he was facing a creature of unimaginable strength and ferocity.
Gribble's panic reached a fever pitch, his breath coming in short, labored gasps as he stared at the Thundercat. The tales of these feared creatures flooded his mind – whispers of the electric sparks that danced through their fur, of their immense strength that was said to rival even the most fearsome Owlbear. Gribble's heart pounded against his ribcage, and he could feel the cold sweat beading on his forehead despite the chill in the air. He knew that he was facing a daunting adversary, one that could easily overpower him in a head-on confrontation. The odds of survival seemed to dwindle with each passing second, and Gribble's mind raced as he desperately tried to come up with a plan. The Thundercat's presence loomed over him like a suffocating shadow, and Gribble could feel the weight of its gaze boring into him, even from across the cave. He understood that he must act quickly and decisively if he hoped to escape this encounter with his life.
Reacting on instinct, Gribble called upon his innate power to conjure bean-sized fireballs. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a barrage of the tiny, flaming projectiles hurtling towards the cave entrance, where they burst into brilliant flashes of light upon impact. The fiery assault illuminated the cave, casting dancing shadows on the walls and bathing the Thundercat in an orange glow. The heat from the flames was intense, and Gribble could feel the scorching air brushing against his skin. The fireballs sizzled and crackled as they hit the stone, sending sparks flying in all directions. For a moment, the cave was filled with a dazzling display of light and sound, a stark contrast to the dark, scary storm that raged outside. Gribble's heart pounded with a mixture of fear and excitement as he watched the fireballs explode, hoping that the sudden attack would be enough to distract the Thundercat and give him a chance to escape.
Gribble's mind raced as he sent the fireballs towards the Thundercat, desperately hoping that the sudden attack would give him the distraction he needed to make his escape. He focused his thoughts, tapping into his teleportation powers and trying to picture a safe place outside the cave. However, the tiredness and the fear that gripped his heart made it hard to concentrate. Gribble's brow furrowed as he tried to gather the needed energy, but his body felt heavy and sluggish, as if he was moving through water. The image of the safe haven he sought flickered in his mind's eye, tantalizingly close but just out of reach. Gribble gritted his teeth, pushing himself to the limits of his mental and physical strength as he struggled to keep his focus. The cave seemed to spin around him, and he could feel the cold tendrils of despair creeping into his heart as he realized that his teleportation powers might fail him in this critical moment.
Gribble's heart sank as he watched the Thundercat emerge unharmed from the fiery assault. The creature's electric blue fur crackled with energy, the sparks dancing across its body like tiny bolts of lightning. The Thundercat's eyes blazed with an otherworldly intensity, and it let out a deafening roar that shook the very foundations of the cave. The sound was unlike anything Gribble had ever heard before – a primal, guttural cry that seemed to echo through his very bones. The cave walls trembled, and small rocks and debris rained down from the ceiling, adding to the chaos of the moment. Gribble realized with a sinking feeling that the Thundercat was not only unharmed but enraged by his attack. The creature's muscles rippled beneath its fur as it prepared to charge, and Gribble knew that a battle was now unavoidable. He steeled himself, summoning every ounce of courage and determination he possessed, knowing that he must fight with all his might if he hoped to survive this encounter.
The Thundercat sprang into action, its powerful legs propelling it towards Gribble with a speed that defied belief. The creature moved with a fluid grace, its body a blur of electric blue as it closed the distance between them in mere seconds. Gribble barely had time to react before the Thundercat was upon him, its razor-sharp claws slashing through the air with deadly precision. He threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the initial attack, but the Thundercat's agility was unmatched. The creature pivoted mid-leap, its tail lashing out like a whip and its claws finding purchase on the cave wall as it redirected its momentum. Gribble's heart raced as he realized the true extent of the Thundercat's physical prowess – its reflexes were lightning-fast, and its strength was beyond anything he had ever encountered. The creature's eyes locked onto Gribble, and he could see the predatory gleam within them, the raw hunger for the hunt. Gribble knew that he must keep moving, keep dodging, if he hoped to stay alive long enough to find a way to counter the Thundercat's relentless assault.
Despite the fatigue that weighed heavily upon him, Gribble mustered the last reserves of his energy and called upon his earth vine powers. He focused his mind, reaching out to the cave floor and seeking the dormant life that lay beneath the stone. With a surge of effort, Gribble summoned a single, thick green tendril from the ground, watching as it burst forth and snaked its way towards the Thundercat. The vine wrapped itself around one of the creature's muscular legs, momentarily halting its advance and giving Gribble a fleeting moment of hope. However, the Thundercat's strength was too great, and it easily ripped through the vine with a snarl of annoyance. The severed tendril fell to the cave floor, writhing like a dying snake before going still. Gribble's heart sank as he realized that his earth vine powers, once a reliable ally in battle, were no match for the Thundercat's raw power. The creature's gaze turned back to Gribble, its eyes narrowing with a mixture of anger and predatory anticipation, and he knew that he must find another way to defend himself before it was too late.
Gribble's mind raced as he desperately searched for a way to gain the upper hand against the relentless Thundercat. In a last-ditch effort, he summoned another volley of bean-sized fireballs, pouring every ounce of his remaining energy into the attack. The tiny flames erupted from his fingertips in rapid succession, streaking through the air like miniature comets and striking the Thundercat's fur with sizzling precision. The creature hissed in pain as the fireballs singed its coat, but its anger only seemed to grow with each passing second. Gribble's exhaustion began to take its toll, his movements becoming sluggish and uncoordinated as he struggled to maintain the barrage. His vision blurred, and his limbs felt heavy, as if he was moving through molasses. The Thundercat pressed its advantage, its claws and fangs flashing in the dim light of the cave as it lunged towards Gribble with renewed ferocity. He knew that he could not keep up this pace for much longer, and a sense of despair began to creep into his heart as he realized that his efforts might not be enough to save him from the Thundercat's wrath.
The Thundercat seized the opportunity presented by Gribble's faltering defense, delivering a devastating blow that sent the young adventurer flying across the cave. Gribble felt the air rush from his lungs as he slammed into the unyielding rock wall, his body crumpling to the ground in a heap of pain and exhaustion. Stars danced before his eyes, and he gasped for breath, each inhalation sending shockwaves of agony through his battered frame. Gribble's mind reeled as he tried to assess the extent of his injuries, but the pain was too great, too all-consuming. He could taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth, and he knew that he was badly hurt. The Thundercat's shadow fell over him, and Gribble looked up to see the creature looming above, its eyes glinting with a mixture of triumph and bloodlust. He tried to move, to crawl away, but his body refused to cooperate, and he collapsed back to the ground, his strength utterly spent. Gribble's heart pounded with the realization that he might not survive this encounter, and a cold sense of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.
Gribble lay broken and helpless on the cave floor, his vision swimming as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. The Thundercat stood over him, its electric blue fur crackling with energy as it prepared to deliver the final, fatal blow. Gribble's mind raced, desperately searching for a way out, for some last-minute miracle that could save him from this dire fate. He tried to summon his powers, to call upon the earth or conjure another fireball, but his body was too weak, too battered to respond. The Thundercat's eyes bore into him, and Gribble could see the raw, primal hunger that burned within them – the desire to end his life and claim victory. His heart hammered in his chest, and he could feel the cold tendrils of fear wrapping around his soul as he stared death in the face.
Would he find a way to overcome the Thundercat, or would his journey come to a tragic end in the depths of the cave? The fate of the young goblin hung in the balance, and only time would tell if he had the strength and cunning to emerge victorious.

My LO is almost 7 weeks old. At 3.5 weeks norovirus hit our home. Our babe had a 101.5 fever and we rushed to the hospital. I was also actively sick at the time but we only admitted her. I threw up in the hospital twice, once at home beforehand, I was miserable but she came first. Then we were transferred to the bigger hospital 45 minutes away because they found bacteria in her blood. It was protocol to look and I thank my lucky stars they did, because she ended up having bacterial sepsis.
Thank the good lord above our daughter fought off the bacteria very quickly and we were there that long just to finish the course of meds. We still need to do one more blood test for a specific immunodeficiency disorder, but otherwise all her other blood work (other disorders, platelets, white blood cell count, liver, kidney) all look normal.
We ended up spending 2 weeks at this hospital that was 45 minutes away from home. I couldn’t just pop home when needed, I felt like a prisoner. I was freshly postpartum sleeping on a hospital chaibed and the baby could never nap properly because of all the commotion at the hospital. Our only saving Grace were the nurses. There were a few that genuinely cared about our well being and I am so grateful to them.
We’ve been home for a week tomorrow, and I’m still not ok. Most days I feel fine, but then there are days like today where she wouldn’t take a nap (away from me at least, she slept on top of me fine lol) until 4:45 in the afternoon. And I become a basket case of anxiety. My body still aches, apparently my tiny little surface level tear hasn’t healed, I’m having weird urethra pain that “she couldn’t see” so it must not be there, and I’m tired.
Sure I’m getting 4-5 hours and my daughter sleeps through the night now (5-6 hour stretches) but I’m still so damn tired. I’ve always been the type of person that needed 8-9 hours a night. I’m also an extremely routined and tidied person. If I’m off my routine and my house is messy I am a ball of anxiety. And with a newborn…y’all know how that goes. Luckily I’m still able to keep the house somewhat tidy, I clean when she naps. And I’m trying to relax while my husband is home and taking care of our baby, but it’s so hard to not be “on mom mode” and just chill.
Not to mention I now know newborns who get sepsis run the risk of cognitive delays and a risk of dying in the next 5 years, I’m fucking terrified.
So yah, that is my extremely long anxiety induced essay that I realllyyyy needed to type out. Thanks for reading.

Seeing what’s floating around.

My LO is almost 7 weeks old. At 3.5 weeks norovirus hit our home. Our babe had a 101.5 fever and we rushed to the hospital. I was also actively sick at the time but we only admitted her. I threw up in the hospital twice, once at home beforehand, I was miserable but she came first. Then we were transferred to the bigger hospital 45 minutes away because they found bacteria in her blood. It was protocol to look and I thank my lucky stars they did, because she ended up having bacterial sepsis.
Thank the good lord above our daughter fought off the bacteria very quickly and we were there that long just to finish the course of meds. We still need to do one more blood test for a specific immunodeficiency disorder, but otherwise all her other blood work (other disorders, platelets, white blood cell count, liver, kidney) all look normal.
We ended up spending 2 weeks at this hospital that was 45 minutes away from home. I couldn’t just pop home when needed, I felt like a prisoner. I was freshly postpartum sleeping on a hospital chaibed and the baby could never nap properly because of all the commotion at the hospital. Our only saving Grace were the nurses. There were a few that genuinely cared about our well being and I am so grateful to them.
We’ve been home for a week tomorrow, and I’m still not ok. Most days I feel fine, but then there are days like today where she wouldn’t take a nap (away from me at least, she slept on top of me fine lol) until 4:45 in the afternoon. And I become a basket case of anxiety. My body still aches, apparently my tiny little surface level tear hasn’t healed, I’m having weird urethra pain that “she couldn’t see” so it must not be there, and I’m tired. Sure I’m getting 4-5 hours and my daughter sleeps through the night now (5-6 hour stretches) but I’m still so damn tired. I’ve always been the type of person that needed 8-9 hours a night. I’m also an extremely routined and tidied person. If I’m off my routine and my house is messy I am a ball of anxiety. And with a newborn…y’all know how that goes. Luckily I’m still able to keep the house somewhat tidy, I clean when she naps. And I’m trying to relax while my husband is home and taking care of our baby, but it’s so hard to not be “on mom mode” and just chill.
So yah, that is my extremely long anxiety induced essay that I realllyyyy needed to type out. Thanks for reading.

I have OCD and seek therapy for it. It’s not working. I’ve went downhill significantly for several months now. One of my biggest fears is HIV infection. And I’m currently suffering from a “trigger” and it’s ruining my life.
I go to electrolysis appointments for hair removal, and I have convinced myself that back in January I contracted HIV from this particular appointment. I went in directly after someone who I convinced myself has HIV and lack of proper sterilization has resulted in an HIV infection. What makes matters worse is that I got sick one week after this appointment. Very sick. Horrible cough, shortness of breath, lost my voice, fever, chills, body aches, diarrhea, etc. I was so sick that I actually pooped blood on one occasion. I was seeing a guy at the time and went and got an HIV test which came back negative. (Not enough time for the window period of my appointment) I relaxed a little and eventually got better and things were okay for a bit. I just had another appointment and completely spiraled again. I am back at square one still convinced that I got HIV from that appointment and have given it to now 2 men I’ve slept with. I’m just a complete hot mess. I don’t know what to do. I’m not promiscuous (yes I’ve slept with 2 guys in 5 months but this is out of the ordinary for me), I do not use intravenous drugs. So other than that I am a healthy, 30 year old female. I’m not seeking reassurance. I don’t know what I want honestly. I just hate feeling this way. I’m plagued with anxiety and am so scared to take this test in the next few days that I feel physically ill. I’m mostly worried I’ve given it to these 2 guys and how am I going to explain this to them…I don’t know how to calm down. Advice would be appreciated.

FTM, LO is 6 weeks this week. Breast feeding was an immense struggle for the first 4 weeks. LO’s latch was really shallow, ties have been ruled out by multiple LC’s and pediatricians. She just had to get a little bigger. She’s great on my right side, no pain at all. Left side is still a bit painful, which is the side I’m currently experiencing this pain.
It’s like a terrible ache on the outer side of my breast. It usually happens just one or the other, but last week it was both at the same time and it was terrible. It’s not necessarily a particular spot which makes me think it isn’t a clog? It feels like deep muscle pain. Laying down is very painful, if I lay on the side that hurts, it feels crushed and painful. If I lay on the opposite side, the pulling of that breast to the opposite side of my body is also very painful.
No fever or chills or anything like that. I basically just ice, heat, and massage until it goes away. Takes about a day if I’m consistent with that stuff. What the heck is this? How can I avoid it? I’ll go several days of not having any pain (apart from the nipple that her latch is still weird) and feeling like I finally have a handle on breastfeeding and then it happens again and I feel very discouraged. :(

Reflecting on 2021, truly marked the zenith of my young career. The pandemic was coming to an end, I was fresh from the hallowed halls of a prestigious but unheralded college, thrust into the corporate labyrinth where, as a mere sidekick to the big shots, I contributed to a deal of record-breaking magnitude. My modest corporate minion life was exaggerated into legend by my professors during an alumni reunion, leading to a rather embarrassing episode where I was paraded around as the poster child of their education career’s success. My parents, not ones to shy away from a bit of pomp, lauded my achievements to anyone within earshot.
But as 2022 unfurled its chaos with the epidemic, my professional life spiralled downwards as swiftly as it had risen. I was laid off, and replaced by a nepotistic hire—my boss's new mistress's nephew. During my dismal final days, my colleagues, once comrades became corporate sharks, whispers of them scheming to claim my last efforts as their own filled the empty office spaces.
Compelled by financial duress to abandon my central city dwelling, I relocated to the outskirts with two college mates, Jaz and Kath, who had similarly found themselves victims of the economic downturn. We settled into apartment 606, a unit with dubious charm, suspiciously affordable on the 13th floor of a dreary building, its corridor haunted by a flickering sensor light that was only designed to function on rare occasions. Yet, the apartment itself was surprisingly very well furnished, almost like something that jumped out from a design mag, out beating sample rooms in Ikea, boasting a spacious balcony, a living room ready for an impromptu soirée, a dining table that’s good enough to hold a banquet(became our co-working space) and a kitchen isle that became our sanctuary and curse.
When we first settled into our new abode, we discovered a trove of fine kitchen utensils, perfect for whipping up sophisticated cuisine and crafting cocktails worthy of a swanky soirée. Tucked away in the fridge, among the remnants of the previous tenants' life, was a quaint note: “The three of us really enjoyed our stay here, especially our meals and nights spent by the kitchen island. We hope you find as much joy in it as we did. Use it well.” With a casual flick of my wrist, I dismissed the note into the garbage can, oblivious to the depth of its seemingly innocuous message. Little did I know, that piece of paper was more a passing of the torch than a simple goodbye.
Our initial days in apartment 606 brimmed with camaraderie and impromptu celebrations: movie nights sprawled on the living room sofas, barbeque dinners under the stars on our balcony, and co-working sessions at the dining table, peppered with resume tweaks and contemplative conversations over cocktails. We even scored a second-hand karaoke machine, allowing me to channel my inner diva—a throwback to my musical theatre days in college and my stint as the voice of corporate presentations and negotiations at my previous job, where I was known for my resonant yet finely tuned voice.
Yet, as the months wore on and the job market remained unyielding, our early merriment slowly surrendered to a creeping anxiety. The kitchen island, once the heart of our home where laughter and shared meals flowed freely, gradually morphed into the epicenter of our collective unease, bearing silent witness to the quiet desperation settling over us.
One evening, in the suspiciously affordable yet stylish apartment, I sank into the sofa, my spirits dampened by my favorite team's disheartening loss. The mood was grim, mirroring my fears of my beloved player's potential retirement at season's end. Later, as we congregated around the kitchen island for dinner, I transformed into an impromptu sports commentator, passionately preaching about the game’s disappointing details that led to failure and my favorite player’s fine qualities. Meanwhile, Jaz updated us on a friend's melodramatic breakup, with guesses that something ugly must have happened behind the scenes. Kath, ever the culinary enthusiast, not only served up her delicious pasta but also dished out the latest celebrity gossip, each tidbit as spicy as her sauce.
The next day, during a late breakfast at the same kitchen island—our unwitting oracle—we were hit by a triple whammy of reality checks. The news of my favorite player's retirement broke, echoing my gloomy predictions from the night before. Jaz chimed in with an update that our friend had uncovered a cheating scandal worthy of its own reality TV special. And Kath, never one to be left out of the drama: her favorite celebrity was now the star of a scandal.
By the third morning, as we sipped our coffee, the newspaper slapped me with another bizarre twist. I was going through the devastating economics and politics sections, then I saw the sports section——featured an irate coach, hell-bent on convincing my favorite player to dismiss retirement plans and keep his jersey on a little longer. Meanwhile, Jaz had good news for a change: it turned out our friend's love story might have a second act after all, as misunderstandings were being cleared up. Amidst these revelations, Kath, who had been grumbling about the nearby supermarket’s inability to stock anything remotely gourmet, and hadn’t had a taste of her favorite Blue Mountain coffee since the beginning of that year, triumphantly found a can of Blue Mountain coffee, and it was on sale and therefore affordable—proof that miracles happen, and sometimes they even go on discount.
As I sat there, absorbing the serendipity of our discussions manifesting into real-world events, I couldn't help but marvel at the mysterious knack of our kitchen island. Was it merely a coincidence, or had this stylish piece of decor become the unlikely conductor of our lives symphony? One thing was certain: life in apartment 606 was never dull, and our kitchen island seemed to be more than just a place to eat—it was a place where, apparently, you could stir the pot of fate.
I decided to conduct a whimsical experiment with our now seemingly magical kitchen island. Clearing my throat theatrically, I declared, "I should be interviewed for a director position." To my sheer astonishment, the next day a headhunter rang me up, claiming I was the ideal candidate for a directorial role at a prestigious corporation in my field. Despite the other candidates possessing decades more experience which defeated me with no effort, and my own lingering self-doubt from months of unemployment, I sailed to the final interview round with the company's executives.
Upon returning to our apartment, I found Kath flaunting a chic dress from a designer brand brand she’d snagged on clearance—a little luxury courtesy of our wish-granting island. Inspired, I approached the island and cheekily requested, "Get us jobs. Something fun." Lo and behold, the following day was spent lounging and binge-watching Netflix, only to be interrupted by a call from a former bigwig at my old job. He was venturing into a more illustrious company and wanted me onboard. The informal chat that followed was a breeze, and just like that, I was back in the game with a fancier title and a fatter paycheck.
The subsequent week was a flurry of celebrations. Jaz secured a senior-level position, and Kath landed her dream job at an influencer management agency. Feeling triumphant, we decided to indulge in a night of fine dining—our first in months. That Friday evening when I went from office to restaurant, on a whim, stopped at a convenience store to grab snacks and cigarettes for our post-dinner revelry. Outside, I encountered a homeless person. After offering him a sandwich (which he traded for a cigarette instead), he took a drag, peered into my eyes, and ominously muttered, “Look, young lady, this isn’t my business, but be wary of what you wish for; everything comes with a price. Good luck and god bless you.”
His words barely registered until later that evening when a mishap occurred that seemed to underline his warning. As we enjoyed syphon coffee post-dinner, a barista accidentally tripped over Kath’s flowing dress. The resulting spill left her with first-degree burns, abruptly ending our night as we rushed to the emergency room. Though it was "just" a first-degree burn, the pain was significant enough to require several days off for Kath’s recovery. Amid the drama, I couldn't help but wonder about the cryptic caution from the man outside the store—had our fortunate streak come with a hidden cost?
We chalked up the coffee calamity to bad luck. The next month flowed smoothly: Kath's fingers healed, she returned to work, and I quickly found my groove at the new job. With all of us gainfully employed, our communal meals at the kitchen island became rare. My mornings were a whirlwind of grabbing breakfast and coffee on the go, followed by an hour's commute to a job that had me scarfing down instant noodles by nightfall, just in time for a quick shower.
As the busy season kicked in, my workload ballooned—not just from the seasonal uptick, but because I was hell-bent on proving my mettle. I quickly outshone most of my peers, and my employer, recognizing a budding overachiever, piled on major tasks, which I eagerly accepted. What started as the occasional hour of overtime soon devoured my weekends. Unpaid overtime, as the fine print in my contract gleefully noted, became my new norm. Driven by a mix of ambition and expectation, I had become the go-to young hotshot, the erstwhile record-breaker now expected to continually outdo myself.
Mentally, I was too swamped to entertain thoughts of anything beyond work, which, in a twisted way, felt like a break. Physically, however, the strain began to show. A bout of flu caught on a business trip escalated into a fever. Sick as I was, deadlines waited for no one, and I soldiered on medicated and miserable. By the time I made it home, my voice had abandoned me. Unable to utter a word the next morning, I resorted to emailing my manager about my sorry state.
That week, robbed of my voice, I mused that it was perhaps a well-deserved hiatus for my overworked vocal cords—a silent retreat if you will. But when my voice did return, it was as a raspy whisper, a shadow of its former crisp and melodious timbre. My doctor offered a grim prognosis: slight improvement might come, but the golden tones were gone for good—scarred by the relentless grind. Ah, the price of ambition—a scratchy throat as a permanent reminder of my corporate conquests.
It seemed I had unwittingly exchanged the clarity of my voice for the tumult of career success. In the midst of our domestic enchantment with the possibly mystical kitchen island, Kath unearthed the contact of a reputed psychic, hailed as the finest in the land. However, the consultation fee was nothing short of princely, and with Jaz vehemently dismissing anything that couldn't be explained by cold, hard science, she promptly opted out of splitting the bill. Kath and I, unwilling to drain our wallets on what could be mere phantasmagoria, reluctantly let the opportunity pass.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but notice a curious change in Jaz’s routine. She had ceased dining at the kitchen island, avoiding it as if it were cursed—or perhaps, in her view, simply out of style. The Saturday morning brought a particularly harsh twist: a murder of crows took to spiralling above our balcony, their cries as sharp as the plot of a Poe novel. We found ourselves drawn to the infamous kitchen island, lined up like the cast of a macabre play, silently praying for the birds to disperse. Kath, ever trying to restore some semblance of normalcy, offered up cups of Blue Mountain coffee. She absentmindedly inquired if I wanted cream or sugar in mine—a blunder that made me realize just how long it had been since our last coffee klatch at this very spot. My inner monologue couldn't resist a dark wish for the crows to scatter, perhaps too dark, for they began to dive bomb our balcony in a feathery kamikaze. The spectacle was enough to knock Jaz off her feet—literally—as her mug met its end on the floor. Kath, meanwhile, made a hasty retreat to worship the porcelain god, and I sat frozen, my brain offline, pondering the twisted power of our kitchen island's apparent wish-granting.
After the unnerving spectacle of crows turning our balcony into a scene straight out of a Hitchcock film, our first rational step—post-collective fainting, of course—was to summon cleaners to manage the feathery carnage. Then, still rattled but increasingly curious, we visited a psychic, who, contrary to the crystal-ball-gazer image, operated out of a posh boutique in a high-end mall and dressed more like she was headed to a fashion show than a séance. We laid bare our saga of the seemingly cursed kitchen island, complete with photographic evidence of where domestic bliss meets eerie phenomena.
The psychic introduced a term that chilled the air around us: “limbo,” the threshold between our world and the otherworldly, and she dubbed our kitchen island the "Devil’s Bargain Counter." According to her, our wishes came with a heavy and unpredictable price, because we have accidentally started trades with beings from the netherworld. Her advice was disarmingly simple: cease all trades on the island. To address the repercussions of past wishes, she advised us the first line of defence, which was an eclectic mix of offerings laid out on our cursed countertop: raw meat(rooster works the best), a cocktail of spices(coca and cinnamon preferably), liberal splashes of spirits(whiskey and rum ideally), and an eerie bouquet of black flowers(luckily I found some black roses at a flower shop of the mall). In a grander gesture of appeasement, Kath relinquished her shiny new diamond bracelet, Jaz her absurdly expensive headphones, and I parted with cash—— a hefty slice of my bonus in hopes of placating whatever capricious spirits we'd angered.
Our return to normalcy was brief but sweet, prompting us to plan a getaway, eager to forget about our nefarious kitchen island. Yet, the respite was merely a tease. Jaz, in a stroke of spectacular misfortune, narrowly dodged disaster twice in one day—first nearly becoming subway track fodder on her way back after work, and then almost getting knocked out by a rogue plant at our apartment building’s doorstep. Clearly, our previous offerings were mere appetizers to whatever forces we'd stirred. The psychic, summoned once again to our now-dubious sanctuary, decreed that the spirits had developed rather expensive tastes, unsatisfied by our initial gestures.
In a desperate bid for closure, we had the psychic over for a nighttime ritual, timed perfectly with Earth's closest approach to the netherworld, according to her. Our living room turned into a ritual chamber, with windows blacked out for days, to keep the otherworldly dealings strictly nocturnal. That night, we arranged ourselves around the island, now less a kitchen fixture and more an altar of last resort.
The psychic, amidst a chorus of Latin incantations, directed us through a chilling séance that included a mirror that reflected nothing but darkness and a burning black candle, the three of us sat in a row, joined hands, eyes closed. When the black candle was flickering at its last, the first eerie scratches heard prompted our eyes to open prematurely, we saw a command appear on the island, written by invisible hand and pen, in blood-red script, urging us to find the next "succeeder" before our lease on otherworldly disturbances could be terminated.
With bated breath, we agreed, and as if by magic, our signatures materialized on the countertop, then faded as the candle sputtered out. We tore off the black cardboard taped on the windows at dawn, the sunrise revealed a final message etched into the surface: "Debt cleared." As the daylight grew, the ominous inscription dissolved into nothingness, signalling the end of our spectral saga.
The ordeal, now officially behind us, left us enjoying a semblance of normalcy: life in 606 returned to its mundane rhythm, with dinners and movie nights back on our social calendar. Though not without its scars—literal and figurative.
It’s been two years since then, Jaz, in the throes of romantic bliss, is now gearing up for a new chapter waiting to be written alongside her soon-to-be spouse; Kath, her career finally taking a lucrative turn, was poised to upgrade her living situation, she secured a lease on a lavish serviced apartment in the city center—a place that matched her newfound financial swagger.
I’m not without my own leaps forward. With a modest boost from my parents, I took the plunge into homeownership, snagging a property within the city’s vibrant confines. The process was a whirlwind of paperwork and decorating decisions, culminating in a space I could truly call my own.
As we are packing up now, my last act is to type out our story, at the infamous island, and of course, I left a note in the fridge for the next tenants:
"Welcome to 606. We had a wonderful time here, especially at the kitchen island, filled with joy and unforgettable moments. We hope you find as much happiness as we did. Use the isle well. Warm wishes, the previous tenants."

i think i have the flu.. not sure. I started feeling sick last thursday with a tickle in my throat and had a fever by the nighttime. fever stuck on and off for 2 days with severe aches, chills, sweats, heart racing. day 3 i got a full blown head cold with blocked nose, pressure headaches, ears plugged. i’m on day 6 and i still have pressure headache.. nose is less stuffy but still a ton of post nasal drip. i feel absolutely exhausted no matter how much i sleep. i feel weak, shaky, nauseous all day long. to the point i don’t think i could walk any real distance.. started coughing like no tomorrow this morning, hardly getting anything up but a little bit. it feels so…. gross to breathe in my windpipes. i don’t know how to describe it. i’m starting to get a bit worried at how ill i feel for the 6th day though. Is this normal?

Hi! UTI symptoms started on 5/3, with a diagnosis given yesterday 5/13. I’d like to wait until 5/17 to start antibiotics, which would be a full 2 weeks from onset of symptoms. My concern is risk of kidney infection if I delay treatment more?
My only real symptom is pelvic pain that extends up slightly into the abdomen on both sides. No fever. No nausea. No chills. Low back pain, but that’s normal for me.
Reasons I’d like to delay treatment : 1) Risk of adverse reaction to antibiotics, given history of adverse reactions. If a reaction happens, better for it to happen over the weekend than during the work week 2) Work plans mid-week involving alcohol, which can’t be mixed with antibiotics. Might be a dumb reason to delay treatment, yet it is a reason
I started taking a probiotic, d-mannose, and UT Answer yesterday.
How much of a risk to my kidneys do y’all think it is to wait a total of 14 days from onset of UT symptoms to treatment with antibiotics?
Update, approx 2hrs after posting: I’ve started macrobid. My doctor has said I should not delay. I’ve read that it has only a low risk of Stephen’s Johnson’s syndrome, which was a concern. I hear y’all’s advice that it would be stupid to prioritize alcohol with colleagues over treating an infection that could become systemic. Thank you all

I woke up with a 100 degree fever and body aches and chills yesterday so I had to call out. I might have to call out tonight too but I only have 15 hours of PPTO. 8 will go to last night's missed shift which leaves me with 7. Will I still get a point if I am an hour short on ppto? Or am I better off not wasting the 7 hours and just taking the point?

I am on day 7 of covid. First day was chills, fever, muscle aches, and back pain. After day three, I have had the worst nausea and aversion to food. Can’t keep anything down. Zofran and Phenergan aren’t touching it. Five days of this intense nausea and no relief. I can drink water okay but anything after that is rough. Anyone have nausea this badly or this long? I’m going crazy over here thinking there won’t be an end in sight.

I'm coming off a week of suffering from seasonal allergies, so I already know my body's still tipped a bit out of balance. But today I have some very stressful things ahead of me, and I guess I'm not handling the anticipation well. My body feels chilled, but my head feels warm. My temperature keeps creeping up to 99.2F, which is admittedly mild but higher than my usual of 98.2-98.5. My muscles are shivery and I'll get little waves of trembles off and on. My heart feels "thumpy" and my pulse is about 92 when it's usually mid-70s. I only checked my vitals when I started feeling off, but now that I know they're not "perfect" I'm doubly anxious and trying my best not to recheck every sixteen seconds.
I'm used to my stress response primarily being stomach upset. . .which of course I have now because I'm anxious about this, lol. I've read about psychogenic fevers, but has anybody here experienced one? This is all new for me. What do you usually do for them? Power through? Do they go away on their own?

M23. Virginia USA. Trying to figure out if it’s not COVID what else could I have?
Sunday morning I woke up with a sore throat and a bad sore throat all day Sunday. Sunday night my sore throat continued and I picked up a fever of around 101.8 and had chills. Monday I felt mostly fine all day besides fatigue and a sore throat.
Today my sore throat is gone and I am SUPER congested (runny nose, feel like I can’t breathe through my nostrils) and sneezing a TON.
However I’ve done 4 COVID tests (one Sunday night, one Monday morning, one Monday night and one this afternoon) and they’ve all been negative. No white spots in throat to indicate Strep Throat. Don’t feel like I’ve been hit hard enough for it to be the flu.
Could it just be a normal cold? And how are normal colds diagnosed, is there a test you can take? Or is it just assumed if Covid tests are negative?

I’m 37 years old female, 155cm height 62kg weight, Indian origin, no international travel in the last 4 years, non smoker, social drinking 1-2 units a week but none in the recent weeks. Living in the UK for the last 10 years. I’m Non diabetic, non hyper tensive, no allergies, never undergone any medical surgeries and no other medical condition other than this.
Since 2023 I have twice had severely elevated CRP levels (both times >400mg/l) presenting meningitis/ sepsis like symptoms but without no underlying infections. Along with high CRP I have high temperature, chills, high heart rate, skin mottling, light sensitivity, vomiting , debilitating pain / reduced mobility on forearms and wrists. Inflammation levels eventually goes down with hospitalisation in acute care IV antibiotics, vit D, pain medication and magnesium. (each time 6+ days hospitalisation was required as they are unable to safely release me until inflammatory levels showed a consistently decreasing trend)
2024 hospitalisation episode placed me on sepsis watch and I was in extreme pain(upper body - restricted movement, locked jaws in addition to symptoms I experienced in 2023 - also described above such as fever chills vomiting light sensitivity followed through)
Currently I’m home it is 5+ weeks since I came back from hospital but muscle stiffness still remains, I had a rebound attack (fever, chills, skin mottling) and was again placed on 5 days antibiotics but I was able to recover at home. Currently it is more like a slow recovery. CRP although had dropped to 36mg/l 5 weeks ago.
GP is already aware and does not know what to do with me, A&E knows to contain my situation from worsening but not able to diagnose what is causing this kind of inflammatory response.
In 2023 when this happened for the first time i thought it was a one- off abnormal inflammatory response but after the second attack in April this year I’m very afraid. I tried to approach immunologists to consult but many number of them happen to be allergists and don’t take my case. Who should I approach?
I’m listing below diagnoses:
1/ tested negative for ANA, Genetic factors 2/ tested negative for rheumatoid factors (rheumatology team cleared me off any RA/ Auto immune disorders after a year long study of my test results during 2023) 3/ tested negative for lupus related diseases 4/ tested negative for myelitis although my creatine kinase levels were 18u/l as of 5 weeks ago (against normal range 20-200u/l) 5/ Globulin levels were at 41g/l as of 5 weeks ago. 6/ tested negative for a wide variety of viral and bacterial infections (including Covid, influenza, meningitis) , extensive CT and MRIs were done of abdomen, chest, pelvic and brain and nothing remarkable came up to warrant this inflammatory response.

I work as a casual at a retail job selling sunglasses. I had been put under probation to be promoted as the assistant manager, which I’m sure was bullcrap anyway, but I was getting the hours for an assistant managers position. My manager (been 2 months since she started) has very incompetent and still doesnt know how to work the POS system still, vapes in the back room, gives discounts to customers like free candy, calls one of the team members a fucking bitch, whenever she sees her, cash has gone missing.. and many other problems which I and the whole team have highlighted to the regional manager, with no solutions. I had basically been running the whole store at this point as we can’t work like that with her.
I had been sick from the flu (which I got from her cuz doesn’t want to wear a mask to work), it was pretty bad, I had fevers up to 101.5, chills and tonsillitis, cold cough and all. So I’ve been calling off work for the last week. I have been giving notice that I can’t work the next day with a cover to my manager. The last time I did it, apparently the cover I sought for worked too much and wasn’t allowed to work. There is no way for me to know this, all I can do is ask if they can work, and they said they could. So I informed my manager at 5:43 pm that I found a cover and my manager said the cover can’t work as it’s over her hours. She still managed to give the cover my shift not sure how. Either way the next day she asked me 2 times if I’m able to come to my next shift I said yes, but then she said, I can’t keep having late notice, people are planning their day, and I obviously need notice to give them notice. Now my problem is how am I supposed to know if I’m upto working the next day or not. In my opinion I still gave her plenty notice. I never once misled her and she herself has left shifts midday cuz she felt sick with no cover. Technically it’s not even my job to search for covers, it’s hers, but I still try to find someone so it’s easy on her. At this point I’m not even allowed to get sick.
After this, she started cutting my hours and even removed some of my shifts all together. I asked her why and she said oh I got an email saying the hours have been reduced, which is bull shit cuz when I went to work, her email is always open to download documents and there was no such email. I called the regional manager and apparently they’ve removed the assistant manager position all together, which they had basically put me on probation for.
Anywho, I know I need to find new work now, but it is just irritating how the management doesn’t see how much money they are losing employing such a person as a manager. I’m not even sure how she was hired as a manager in the first place.

Sick with lyme for 10 years. I started treatment 5 months ago but stopped around 4 month mark because of frequent herxes (I know, I shouldn’t have), felt perfect like I was back to being healthy for around 3 weeks and then It hit me. My typical herx symptoms- nausea and vertigo. Went back on protocol but started very small with 5 drops of cryptoleptis.
After around 3 days I got a fever of 37.8 (100 F), intense tmj pain and headache, chills, allodynia, neck pain, fatigue, shortness of breath, stomachache, muscle pain, lower back pain, nausea.
it’s the second day I feel this way and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Is this bacteria hitting me hard because I stopped treatment? Is this a herx? I don’t know whether I should keep on killing the bacteria with cryptoleptis or just do detoxing? I feel the worst I’ve ever had, like ER bad. Painkillers barely do anything

Hey all, so back in December, I got hit hard with COVID. You name it, I had it. Body aches, chills, 104F fever, N, stomach ache, loss of smell and taste, etc. It was really bad. Probably the most S I've ever been.
Since then, I have experienced long Covid symptoms. I started losing a bunch of hair in March, and recently, I have been short of breath, anxious, and very fatigued.
Last night, I laid down to watch TV at 7pm, and slept until 6:45am. I remember getting up briefly at one point with a bad gas cramp, but managed to get back to sleep.
When I got up, I felt like I didn't sleep at all. All my limbs feel like there's sand bags on them, and whenever I go up and down the steps, I feel like I'm out of breath.
My stomach is also acting up. I had to go to the bathroom twice so far, and it's been normal, but I feel slightly N. Because I can't breathe right, and I'm a little N, it's making me feel like I'm going to have a panic attack.
My oxygen is fine, I have a meter to test it, and it's at 99%. I just don't know what's going on with my stomach.
Has anyone here had something similar after having COVID?

I’ve been sick for 3 weeks on and off and it’s really starting to take a toll on my mental health. Any suggestions welcome.
Week 1 - high fever, 102 feeling overall crummy chills, super sore neck, ears popping etc
Week 2 - felt ok but ears still popping, very tired and stiff neck still
Week 3 - ears popping, 99 fever on and off, terrible sore throat, swollen grands, stiff neck, runny nose
What doctors have said Week 1 I didn’t see a doctor bc fever went away
End of week 2 doctor said maybe sinus infection but just take ibuprofen
Now at week 3 I am on my second day of a Z Pack but just still feel terrible, no energy
What could it be