I worked the entire day, while she slept and watched and moaned about how boring it was to be sick (sure sign that she was going to school on Tuesday if I had anything to say about it), and when the day was done I worked some more, because I had a sneaking suspicion that she had already infected me. At 5 o'clock, she moaned and groaned so much that we went and laid down together in my bed, whereupon we BOTH fell asleep and Anders woke me up at 7 wondering if the kids had had dinner yet. Oops.
And I got up and ate something and then I worked until 10 p.m., because now I knew I needed to put away some hours against a coming sick day.
Tuesday she went to school and I went to work, though neither of us felt all that great, and I self-medicated with my rapidly dwindling supplies of Tylenol Cold Medicine. By yesterday, Wednesday, I KNEW I'd caught the plague but was pretty sure the super-powered American cold medicine would be able to keep it at bay.
Wrong! By afternoon, my throat hurt so much I knew I wouldn't be able to go to the first choir practice of the year and called with my sad regrets. This morning the plague was full blown: headache, achy muscles, fatigue, sore throat, stuffed up head and sore sinuses. WAH! I slept half the day and worked the rest, and now I'm going back to bed, because I really really need to go to work tomorrow and besides I WILL be better tomorrow, because it's sushi night tomorrow and I MUST BE BETTER FOR THE SUSHI.
It was much better being sick when you were a kid; even if you couldn't play games, you could make forts with your duvet, and read all you wanted and play with the cat, and your mom would bring you chicken soup and toast for lunch, and most of all, you didn't have to worry about work or your other obligations. Being sick when you're an adult, and especially when you're a parent: BLEAH.
Send healing thoughts, please! Sushi, sushi, sushi!
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