So I’m sick. This day #2 of convalescence. I’m riding in the fog of an over-the-counter pharmaceutical cocktail. It’s 3:00 in the afternoon and I just bothered to put on real pants for the first time today.
It’s no big thing; just a cold. But the hazy headspace that no energy (and a lot of drugs) leaves behind has an odd way of bringing your priorities into sharper focus. The things that matter, the things to which you actually want to meter your sparse servings of energy, become clearer.
One of advantages disadvantages things about having a job in an office rather than the work-from-home gig is that when you are sick, you have to think about other people’s well being. Sure, there’s an overwhelming list of things to be done – that’s the case in most offices most times – but no one is going to care about what you aren’t doing if the trade off is you playing Typhoid Mary and sprinkling your germs throughout office’s ventilation system.
Funny thing is, I was hesitant to call in sick both yesterday and today. I did it. For one, I’m sick as a dog, I can’t remember two things without a list, and everything hurts, but also it was the right thing to do. But I actually wanted to go to work. That surprised me some, and it’s kind of cool.
I’ve got projects at home that I could be working on. Who doesn’t? Some quiet time in your own dwelling is never a bad thing. But when I’ve only got so much energy, it’s interesting the things I’ll out-right refuse. I’ve got a lot of self-imposed deadlines and commitments in my life. I don’t go in for being bored. My dad once suggested that maybe I’d do better to have a little more free chill time in my life. Sure, I could free up some time. Why not? It would give me an opportunity to look for new hobbies.
You see the problem here?
So I settle down on the couch with everything I need in arms-reach. I’ve got a ball of yarn, a stack of buffy, a super-sized mug of tea, and a pile of poetry to read for the Crow. Don’t need to. I could vegetate. The germ fairy gave me a get-out-of-jail-free card. But somehow, I pull the pile of poetry forward first while I burrow under a blanket and tug the kleenex box closer. This also surprised me, but it felt good.
A friend dropped in this afternoon and shared some Buffy and knitting time with me as well as some of Shawn’s homemade soup. (Props for the husband whose so awesome cool that he dropped out of work early yesterday to shoulder the bulk of the parenting responsibilities and make me chicken soup from scratch.) She called while running errands to see if she could bring me anything. You know, orange juice or sudafed or whatever. I asked for a grande chai. Good friend.
So not everything about being sick sucks. And I did finish my gloves. (Just as predicted, the weather tops 75º and I finish elbow length gloves. My timing is just stellar.) I think I even pulled that shawl out to a place where inches are showing up on the measuring tape again.
Not sure that’s worth the price of the headache, the nasal faucet and the sleepless nights, but there you have it.
And I think I may actually go out in public now – hence the pants – and pick up the kid from school a little early. Maybe I can manage a short walk with him. I hear it’s sunny out there and stuff.
The sleep has not been forthcoming on this cold adventure, and being a usually-talented snoozer I get extraordinarily cranky when I am hindered in that respect. But I have a plan for tonight. I call it codeine. That and a hot shower and I’m hoping that will lead me to good night’s sleep and productive, more healthy me back at the office tomorrow. Here’s hoping.
Best wishes toward your health and happiness out there, friends.