Sick Days

Sick days are very dangerous days.

Example being today, this very morning. My head is pounding harder than bread dough on a counter. My nose feels like it's stuffed up to my temporal lobe and my body feels as if a UFC fighter took me down in the ring. Hard. No Mercy.

Game. Set. Dayquil.

It's been an hour and a half and already I'm done with the whole mess. Being sick is my Achilles' Heel; I hate feeling gross. I turn into a dripping, slimy, runny nosed adolescent who's been rejected one too many times by the school's hottest football player. Erik could mention that perhaps I could change out of the clothes I've been wearing for two days because it might make me feel better. He leaves for work with part of his ear chewed off after I verbally and physically abuse him in my weakened state for even mentioning something that might possibly be good for me. Of course, I know what's good for me. Y'know, watching Netflix, cuddling with my cat and not moving for seven straight hours.

Not always a good thing, lemme tell ya.

What I don't always like about sickness is having to tell my boss that I'm under the weather and then having to make up the day the next week. Working for a startup means there's really no down time, which I don't mind except I suffer from ridiculous anxiety whatever and need to take various steps to chill out. Such a buying a coloring book with Disney Princesses and shading in hopeless dreams. Or doing yoga...the only way I could even do the pretzel is by accident. And even then I imagine I'd get stuck. And without health insurance I'd most likely stay that way.

I guess I should just avoid the subway...but it's a long walk to work.