Aw, come ON!

Last night as I was piling into bed I muttered to myself, “I’m calling in sick tomorrow. And this time, I really mean it.”

I say this to myself about every other night. I’m so tired by the time I turn in that I actually do feel like maybe I’m coming down with something. I feel hot, or cold, or I have a pounding headache, or my joints are aching in that “flu-ish” kind of way, and, well, maybe my nose is a little stuffed up and possibly I coughed once or sneezed twice and anyway…I think I’m coming down with something and I’ll have to call in sick tomorrow.

Therefore, naturally, I don’t take myself seriously when I’m going to bed thinking that maybe I’m coming down with something.

So imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning still feeling like I’m coming down with something. A little feverish, pounding headache that scoffs at Excedrin, lethargy, muscle ache all over…I’m pretty sure I’m coming down with a lovely case of The Scrounge.

And now that I’ve crawled my way to lunchtime…yeah. I can state with authority that it isn’t a case of just still being tired, or in need of a(nother) cup of coffee, or perhaps a six pound slab of chocolate or maybe an iron pill (taken with a pound of top sirloin and two pounds of spinach).

I’m definitely coming down with something.

I’m not sick yet, but I’m on my way to sick and will probably be feeling pretty wretched by quitting time today.

And, just a calendar check here, it’s Friday.

Which, you know…well. That’s not fair. I’m starting to come down with something today, which means I don’t feel quite unwell enough to hit the couch. I work from home today anyway, so I’m not buying any net-new time away from commuting.

At best, I might feel ugly enough to log off a couple hours earlier in the afternoon. Or maybe even lousy enough to not even come back from my lunch break here.

But I don’t feel quite bad enough to actually crash right now. Which means that The Scrounge is probably going to hit me like a freight train tomorrow – on my precious, too-brief window of so-called leisure where I try to put Humpty Dumpty back together again restore some order around here.

And then I’ll be feeling marginally better on Sunday, and by Monday I’ll be fine.

Seriously, is that fair?

If I ran the Universe….well. If I ran the Universe, nobody would get sick in the first place. But if for some reason my omnipotent powers didn’t extend to actually eradicating illness altogether, well, by Me they would totally have to take the weekends off.

{grumble grouse complain whine kvetch}

In other news, you know how you know who your friends are? Well. I know one thing for sure: Friends do not send friends links to things like this when they’ve just made all kinds of solemn vows about not spending any money (click on the image to go to KnitPicks for project details) (and this is not the same as me sending it you, which would be un-friendly...all blame lies with my friend Kathy who sent it to me in the first place):



Why don’t you just hand me a six pack of peach cider, a box of The Sinus Medicine That Actually Works and the keys to your Porche while you’re at it?! (I know you don't have one yet, babe, but maybe you could buy one just for the occasion?)

…but they are awfully cute, aren’t they? And Captain Adventure would love! either the googly-eyed alien or the muffin-seeking slug…