Move over, Yahweh. Poor Corrina has scarcely moved from the hot air vents since yesterday, where she's been sleeping through the latest illness to sweep the Polleys. It's a fever/fatique/headache/coughing illness that started with Hank, then Tony, me, and now Corrina. I had to wake up Corrina to go pick up Hank at 11:30, and I'm about to wake her up again to pick up Rene.