Yech.
Last night, at my parents' house for Pasta Night, I was sitting on the sofa and drinking my coffee and I got that feeling. That bad, viruses-settlin'-down-for-a-party feeling in the back of my throat. Bobby had a hockey game late last night in Columbia, so I just went home and crashed and didn't even hear him come in.
When I woke up this morning, it felt like someone had taken a fork and scraped it down the back of my throat. I could have called in sick to work, but I had ten new, shiny warrants waiting to be run, not to mention a pile of paperwork to scan into the system. And I knew none of it would get done if I didn't go in, so here I am.
On top of that, work has been annoying. CJIS decided to cop out on me a couple of times, and it has also decided not to print to my laser printer, so I had to send my pages to the fax machine. Which would be fine if the fax would print more than a page every thirty seconds. So nine warrants--which would take me no more than an hour to do everything, including the scanning, under normal conditions--took most of my morning.
And the phone...have I mentioned how much I despise strident noises? My cellular is actually set not to ring but to chirp like crickets because I can't stand the sound of phones ringing. The cricket sound is soft and gentle, on the other hand. The sound of Nextel direct connect, which is what we use for radios at work...*shudders.*
I'm less sore now but still feel like someone poured cement into my head. And I have club skating practice tonight and am thinking strongly of not going, as much as it pains me to miss practice. I think that I could probably skate at least to practice our group numbers, but I'm worried of wearying myself and throwing my immune system in the wrong direction, as well as smearing my clubmates with my germs, since our number involves a lot of skating in formations while holding hands/wrists.
In the meantime, I have a chapter of AMC to write for next week's posting. I wonder if I can coax wee!Carnistir into my sick head?
I was going to work on the website, but I don't know if the cementhead feeling is conducive to tinkering. I also have a D&D adventure to write and a pile of stories to read....
Be gone, viruses. I have work to do.
When I woke up this morning, it felt like someone had taken a fork and scraped it down the back of my throat. I could have called in sick to work, but I had ten new, shiny warrants waiting to be run, not to mention a pile of paperwork to scan into the system. And I knew none of it would get done if I didn't go in, so here I am.
On top of that, work has been annoying. CJIS decided to cop out on me a couple of times, and it has also decided not to print to my laser printer, so I had to send my pages to the fax machine. Which would be fine if the fax would print more than a page every thirty seconds. So nine warrants--which would take me no more than an hour to do everything, including the scanning, under normal conditions--took most of my morning.
And the phone...have I mentioned how much I despise strident noises? My cellular is actually set not to ring but to chirp like crickets because I can't stand the sound of phones ringing. The cricket sound is soft and gentle, on the other hand. The sound of Nextel direct connect, which is what we use for radios at work...*shudders.*
I'm less sore now but still feel like someone poured cement into my head. And I have club skating practice tonight and am thinking strongly of not going, as much as it pains me to miss practice. I think that I could probably skate at least to practice our group numbers, but I'm worried of wearying myself and throwing my immune system in the wrong direction, as well as smearing my clubmates with my germs, since our number involves a lot of skating in formations while holding hands/wrists.
In the meantime, I have a chapter of AMC to write for next week's posting. I wonder if I can coax wee!Carnistir into my sick head?
I was going to work on the website, but I don't know if the cementhead feeling is conducive to tinkering. I also have a D&D adventure to write and a pile of stories to read....
Be gone, viruses. I have work to do.