I phoned in sick to work yesterday. I darn near never phone in sick to work. I hate it. A tremendous amount. I've been on the downside of too many flurried work days where someone has phoned in sick and we all scramble to cover, while internally asessing the liklihood that they were actually sick.
But recently I came in when I should have phoned in sick, and then I was shifted from my lazy turret position to a truck position, where I was required to work for my paycheque, and it ran me into the ground. So when I woke up feeling like warm crap-cheese, I rolled over to my cellphone.
I spent the day miserable lolling around, trying to amuse myself, trying to not do things (days off are foor cleaning and "doing things") so I could rest up in anticipation of today. But now here is today, and I am still sick.
HOLD THE PHONE.
That's not how this works!
I'm supposed to be better!!
Instead I'm trooping around, snuffling, trying to will my oatmeal into cooking faster than twenty effing minutes!
When I'm sick, the household is sick; everything moves in a dream-like haze, everything is crampy or rusty, even the girls in their exploration of a centipede visitor were lazy, scratching at it in a tremulous fashion, while attempting to lick it off the floor (Perhaps they don't have enough protein in their diet?), until Pixie, the pug, gave up and lay next to it, staring tragically, as though felled by this wee beastie. It was also the position she choses when Faith won't play with her, though, so perhaps she thought it was a toy?
I bought myself a chocolate bar to try and feel better, but this is really unfair. I made it through one day amusing myself, promising myself the next day would be fun and productive (had a jog planned, clean the bathroom, go to ikea), but day two, when I've become jaded about those promises?