Sick days

I hate being sick as an adult. Being sick as an adult means you have to first convince yourself you’re sick enough to take a sick day, then ask other people to trust your judgment. When you’re a kid, you only have to convince someone else you’re sick enough. It’s not like if the school nurse says you’re fine, go back to class, you get to say, “nah, going home,” and then just go. Of course, being sick at home by yourself as an adult isn’t really any fun. Nothing’s in reach, even if it’s in reach. This morning I had the alarm set, which requires lots of leaning and stretching to reach, and my phone alarm set. Because even after the initial decision to call in, which I was very much against even as I got into bed last night at nine and spent thirty minutes trying to get myself calm—I really didn’t want to call in. There’s the whole “I’m infectious, I shouldn’t get people sick” thing, but you’ve got to be confident in the sick to employ that one. “Luckily,” I had a slight but significant enough fever to tell me I was really sick. I figure once you’ve got a fever, it’s out of your hands. I got us one of those zap-the-forehead thermometers from China (by way of Amazon) a while ago and this morning was the first time it reported a fever. But, based on the chills, I knew. Knowing didn’t stop me from setting the alarm for every half hour, then twenty minutes, until I hit the point of no return on calling in. So lots of twisting and turning to manage the alarms. And kicking one of the cats, but he’s fine. It was more of a shove kick than a kick kick. I didn’t know he was there, because I was out of it. When I woke up, the fever had broken. At some point since last night, I’d gotten another throw blanket. I knew there was one, but I hadn’t realized there were two. So being chilly in the blanket nest was a big indicator, after all. But then the fever’s broken so it means you’re not too sick anymore. It’s not retail, you’re not going to go in and do the second half of your shift. What am I going to do? Unpleasant chores, because American Calvinistic guilt over calling in sick.

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