The wrath of a woman with a cold (and too out of it to think of anything clever to rhyme with ‘scorned’)
I have a bug. Not sure what strain and don’t really care. Yesterday it manifested as a sore throat and a sleepless night. This morning, I was very tempted to call in sick.
I have never called in sick since I’ve been at my current place of employment. I have literally even gone to the emergency room and come BACK to work.
When I did call in sick at my other places of employment, it was usually because my son was sick and too young to be sick alone.
I also remembered I had a customer coming in at 9 a.m. SO! I ‘manned’ up. Got dressed, put what passed as a happy healthy face on and went to work.
Mini-tangent: Why do they call it ‘manning up’? Really. Isn’t it us women who soldier though our days with minimal complaint?
Well, not today baby. By the time I got to work, I was dizzy, achy, had a headache that wouldn’t quit and the thought of food was so vile I actually only packed some salted tortilla chips and 3 clementines for lunch.
I sent an email to my manager requesting to leave early after I handled the urgent items on my desk.
After the customer left my head was now spinning. I was seriously reconsidering the joys of having a swivel chair.
At about 12:30, the male loan officer in the office got the brunt of my pent-up sickly frustration.
“Have I EVER called in? I feel like I don’t EXIST! And WHAT is that in my inbox?” He gingerly withdrew the item and in a small voice asked “well, what do you have going on work wise?” I think I gaped. I picked my jaw off of the floor and with watery eyes retorted with “Does it matter?! Next time I’m just calling in!” He backed away slowly with “you exist to me …”
I sat feeling very silly and a little sorry for myself and as touched as I could muster up by his comment. I apologized and we agreed that not feeling well definitely amplifies frustration.
He generously offered that I should go home and rest so that I would ‘be better for tomorrow’.
I get home and crawl on the couch, mindful of the clock and the fact that I had an hour and a half before my son came home from school.
Nodded off after about 45 minutes of whimpering and was awakened by a stream of sunlight hitting me in the face. I felt like a vampire for a split second – but did not combust. The heat I felt after the front door closed was a fun new symptom – little fever.
In walks my son. Does he ask why I’m home? No. He grabs the remote and quietly says, (like he’s doing me a favor) “I’m just going to do what I normally do.” Cartoons are now in my aching ear – and he plops down at the computer.
I give up. I decide we’re having an early dinner – which I know I have to make. I do the dishes that I know I have to do – and with all the maturity of a 43-year-old mom, I stomp off to my room to curl into a little sick ball. Came out once to hear “what is the dog barking at?”
“I don’t know,” I snapped “Let me check shall I?”
Was pretty close to tears at that point – but that would have pushed me dangerously over the edge into ‘man cold’ territory.
I have T-minus 13 hours to make a miraculous recovery. When my ears stop ringing, I’ll go find my cape.