On Debilitating Illness
Where have you been, Patwoman? I hear you say as you shine the Pat-signal into the night.
And the answer is, I have been up and I have been down, but now I'm back with you again. In case you can't tell, I'm still slightly loopy. I've been sick all week. The kind of sick where, on Monday, you say "It's just allergies" and you blow you nose 1600 times, much to the disgust of all your co-workers who look at you as if you are maliciously spreading ebola virus onto their own person work surfaces (which you are not, becasuse you always use a tissue)!
The kind of sick where on Tuesday, your voice is pretty much gone, but you say "It's just allergies" because you don't want to admit you're starting to feel really bad. And really, your co-workers have so little contact with you now you might as well be at work where you can at least get some stuff done, as oppposed to being at home and having to work through the extranet, which is almost dial-up slow.
The kind of sick where on Wednesday, you realize you're actually getting worse, but you still go to work because 1) Your boss is on vaca and there's nobody else and 2) you've already committed to the "it's my allergies" thing.
It's the kind of sick where Thursday through Saturday are a half-remembered dream--a terrible, terrible dream in which you have to make a choice between breathing (taking the cold medicine) and sleeping (not taking it). Not to mention the two days of eye-twitching that are gonna come as a side effect of the drugs.
Anyway, long story short (see what I did there? I made it seem as if I had actually been brief in the telling. Ha!) I just haven't felt well enought to write.
Forgive me, Gentle Reader. I've missed you as much as you've missed me.
And the answer is, I have been up and I have been down, but now I'm back with you again. In case you can't tell, I'm still slightly loopy. I've been sick all week. The kind of sick where, on Monday, you say "It's just allergies" and you blow you nose 1600 times, much to the disgust of all your co-workers who look at you as if you are maliciously spreading ebola virus onto their own person work surfaces (which you are not, becasuse you always use a tissue)!
The kind of sick where on Tuesday, your voice is pretty much gone, but you say "It's just allergies" because you don't want to admit you're starting to feel really bad. And really, your co-workers have so little contact with you now you might as well be at work where you can at least get some stuff done, as oppposed to being at home and having to work through the extranet, which is almost dial-up slow.
The kind of sick where on Wednesday, you realize you're actually getting worse, but you still go to work because 1) Your boss is on vaca and there's nobody else and 2) you've already committed to the "it's my allergies" thing.
It's the kind of sick where Thursday through Saturday are a half-remembered dream--a terrible, terrible dream in which you have to make a choice between breathing (taking the cold medicine) and sleeping (not taking it). Not to mention the two days of eye-twitching that are gonna come as a side effect of the drugs.
Anyway, long story short (see what I did there? I made it seem as if I had actually been brief in the telling. Ha!) I just haven't felt well enought to write.
Forgive me, Gentle Reader. I've missed you as much as you've missed me.
posted by Patwoman | 6:00 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home