Being sick sucks. I woke up this morning fully convinced that the stars had aligned, Jupiter was in the 2nd house and that the germs causing this most recent sickness developed a consciousness overnight and might be trying to asphyxiate me. What a way to go - suffocated by snot and only Joe Lewis to bare witness. Admittedly this is less depressing than the first time I had heart burn, thought it was a heart attack and realized that with Meredith in Bermuda, nobody would know I'd died until my body started to get smelly. THAT was moderately disconcerting.
Last week when I got all positive about life and talked about my lovely weekend, the Universe found it necessary to smite me. Nothing THAT bad (I still have all my fingers and toes) but suffice to say I'm sitting at home with a fever, a box of Kleenex and some hot tea today. I'm HOPING that we won't need a repeat of said smiting should I venture back into the land of positivity. Despite the germy smiting, I'm going to banish cynicism (Coco DID tell us that there's nothing so deplorable as cynicism) and hope that no karmic smiting will follow.
So while it totally sucks to be sick and I respectfully request that it stop soon, it is awfully nice to have paid sick time at work. It's nice to have coworkers (hi Nurse Leslie!) who cover your work without making you feel guilty for having succumbed to toxic nuclear strength germs. It's nice to have a comfy couch to curl up on and a cuddly kitty to curl up with. Granted, it requires that your cuddly feline isn't a chicken shit like mine who runs every time someone coughs, sneezes, snorts, sniffles or twitches a toe.
Still, if I have to be sniffling, sneezing and snotting - at least I get to be HERE while I do it.
No comments:
Post a Comment