June 28, 2000
On Second Thought


OK. Maybe it really IS as bad as I thought it was going to be.

It's Wednesday morning and I just called in sick. Or more accurately: I just *croaked* in sick. My voice splintered into pieces about halfway through my heartrending message. [That's the beauty of upper-respiratory crud. It's pretty damn hard to fake. When you call in sick ... they can hear how sick you are.]

I feel horrrrrrrrrrible, she says whinily.

I was awake most of the night, barking painfully into a rolled-up bath towel [so I wouldn't wake up the Other 50%]. I'm exhausted. I see *stars* every time I swallow. My ears are all plugged up. I can't breathe. I am ankle-deep in snotty crumpled Kleenex. My chest is rattling. My head hurts. Something in my lower back hurts, every time I cough.

I am so spaced-out on cough medicine that I just dumped a big glug of Odwalla Orange Juice into my half-empty tea mug.

I've already done "sick" a couple of times this year on the website ... and if there's anything I deplore it's redundancy that I deplore.

There are only so many ways to make phlegm sound *groovy* and *amusing,* after all.

So I'm going to do us ALL a big favor ... and go crawl back into bed. Right now. For the rest of the day, probably. If you catch my stoopid butt goofing around online later today, YELL at me and tell me to get back into bed.

I'll be back when I'm feeling better ... or at least whenever I can remain vertical for longer than eleven seconds without seeing my very own personal *fireworks* display.

throw a rock