There are certain activities which absolutely must take place in order to not live in squalor, all of which I was planning on tackling this weekend. Instead, I spent two days and two nights either shivering in my bed, or burning up. Decidedly NOT fun. I can't remember the last time I was racked with fever, but damn. I started re-integrating solid food sometime late Sunday.
Outside of cleaning, the only other thing I was looking forward to was biking - the entire weekend was sunny and gorgeous - well, at least the few times I stumbled out of my sick-cave to turn the furnace on full blast or stumbled back to turn it off and lay under the ceiling fan.
Thankfully, 72-hours seemed to be the runtime of this particular bout - I should know for sure Monday morning - surprise relapses are a surprise! I always appreciate not being sick on work days, but now it feels like I didn't get a day off :(
And the substitute bus driver failed to pick up my daughter and the school's transportation coordinator couldn't raise her on the radio.
I'm going in, Chief.
(no subject)
You're sick on a weekend, and a friend of mine had appendicitis on spring break. Your respective employers would applaud the good planning.