I’ll Be Sick for Christmas
What a crummy Christmas weekend this turned out to be. I started feeling sick on Friday night, and by Saturday morning, I was miserable. I stayed in bed almost all day. Same on Sunday. On Monday, feeling slightly less horrible, I alternated between lying in bed and helping my parents get ready for Christmas. On Christmas Day, I alternated between lying on the couch and helping my mom with dinner. By bedtime, though, I was once again utterly miserable.
Still, one does not call in sick on the first day back at work after a five-day-weekend, so I dragged myself out of bed on Wednesday morning and staggered off to the office. I managed, barely, to make it to one o’clock. When I went to tell the office manager that I wasn’t coming back after lunch, I didn’t even get the words out of my mouth. I walked into her office, she took one look at me, and she said, “You ARE going home to stay, aren’t you?”
So I spent Wednesday afternoon and all day yesterday in bed. I’m thoroughly sick of my bed, and even my new penguin-patterned pajamas don’t make it a congenial prospect for another day’s habitation. And I am feeling rather better today, so I’m back in the office — with the understanding that if I start feeling ill again, I’m going home.
I hope to make it through the day. I’m tired, and weak, but I’m so very behind with filing and other office routines. I’d like to be able to take today, and Monday’s half-day, and really get things caught up. Of course, if I were in top form, I’d have it all done by close of business today. But I’m not, so I won’t, and there’s nothing I can do about that.