Take a chance, win a stuffed animal.
So Wednesday I felt a little poopy. Thursday morning I woke up feeling worse, but I said, "I'm a big girl. Fuck colds," and went to work. After work I went skating for an hour despite spending all day blowing my nose and hocking loogies. You know, like a lady. Then I came home to discover that my lymph nodes had swollen and all I wanted in life was to lie prone in bed.
I wonder why.
I had to cancel on FRAWKLY and apparently miss the best Fringe ep ever. Je regrette! But the pile of tissues that I woke up to discover next to my bed the next morning was... Horrifying and impressive all at once. And even though I got 9 hours of sleep I woke up exhausted.
When I realized that I was trying to talk myself into going into work I knew I had to stay home. Completely healthy, I have to bargain with myself to go to work. I'll try to find any reason to call in including "I don't know, I don't like the look of that one cloud," or "I really need to vacuum," or "I don't even have anything to take for lunch." But for some reason whenever I am on ill all I want to do is crawl into work and soldier on. (This has led to me ACTUALLY breaking down into hysterical tears at work and being ORDERED not to come back until I was healthy.)
Friday though, as I lay in bed thinking about work and my plans... I just realized there was so much that I wanted to do personally that there was nothing for. Even though though grit and determination could have helped me work for 8 hours, I would have had to come straight home and go right to bed if I ever wanted to feel better. That wasn't an option. I could skip the planned drinking and dancing with my girls, but I had made plans with my sister and brother in law to meet David and it would have really hurt her to cancel and reschedule.
I'm a tough lady, but I'm not sure that Jesus himself could have gotten me to work 8 hours, come home and make myself presentable for dinner, have The Boy meet my sister and then get together with my bestie that dropped into town that evening, and THEN get up the next day for a long-planned all day to San Antonio. Or maybe I could have but it would have landed me in the hospital.
So I finally I said to hell with work. And went back to sleep for another two hours. And thank God. Because dinner with The Boy and family and bestie and BFF went so, so well. I'm glad that I was semi-cognizant for it.
This morning I waffled about whether or not it would be a good idea to go to San Antonio when I was still wanting to shove tissues up my nose, or else be forced to rinse my sinuses out with a hose. I decided to throw caution to the wind. If it went badly I would at least get points for trying and for not canceling a trip that couldn't be rescheduled.
Y'all. I'm so glad I did. It was not exactly ideal; we got out of Austin late and many a romantic situation was ruined by me having to blow my nose, loudly and disgustingly, but all in all it was a cute, cute, cute fucking trip. I was worn out by the end of the day, so a planned dinner and visit to the Riverwalk (The Boy does not realize it is a tourist trap) didn't happen but we went to an art museum and the zoo and got tasty pie and tea at my favorite place in San Antonio, Mad Hatters. And I really don't feel like I harmed my chances at a quick recovery. It was just a lot of slow paced walking and I took breaks, stayed hydrated and medicated.
I'm just really glad I didn't just entirely scrap this weekend as a wash because it couldn't be perfect after getting sick. I wish I could have partied Friday night like I planned, and taken up a party invitation I received after I got back into Austin, but I'm still gonna go to bed with a smile on my face.
I wonder why.
I had to cancel on FRAWKLY and apparently miss the best Fringe ep ever. Je regrette! But the pile of tissues that I woke up to discover next to my bed the next morning was... Horrifying and impressive all at once. And even though I got 9 hours of sleep I woke up exhausted.
When I realized that I was trying to talk myself into going into work I knew I had to stay home. Completely healthy, I have to bargain with myself to go to work. I'll try to find any reason to call in including "I don't know, I don't like the look of that one cloud," or "I really need to vacuum," or "I don't even have anything to take for lunch." But for some reason whenever I am on ill all I want to do is crawl into work and soldier on. (This has led to me ACTUALLY breaking down into hysterical tears at work and being ORDERED not to come back until I was healthy.)
Friday though, as I lay in bed thinking about work and my plans... I just realized there was so much that I wanted to do personally that there was nothing for. Even though though grit and determination could have helped me work for 8 hours, I would have had to come straight home and go right to bed if I ever wanted to feel better. That wasn't an option. I could skip the planned drinking and dancing with my girls, but I had made plans with my sister and brother in law to meet David and it would have really hurt her to cancel and reschedule.
I'm a tough lady, but I'm not sure that Jesus himself could have gotten me to work 8 hours, come home and make myself presentable for dinner, have The Boy meet my sister and then get together with my bestie that dropped into town that evening, and THEN get up the next day for a long-planned all day to San Antonio. Or maybe I could have but it would have landed me in the hospital.
So I finally I said to hell with work. And went back to sleep for another two hours. And thank God. Because dinner with The Boy and family and bestie and BFF went so, so well. I'm glad that I was semi-cognizant for it.
This morning I waffled about whether or not it would be a good idea to go to San Antonio when I was still wanting to shove tissues up my nose, or else be forced to rinse my sinuses out with a hose. I decided to throw caution to the wind. If it went badly I would at least get points for trying and for not canceling a trip that couldn't be rescheduled.
Y'all. I'm so glad I did. It was not exactly ideal; we got out of Austin late and many a romantic situation was ruined by me having to blow my nose, loudly and disgustingly, but all in all it was a cute, cute, cute fucking trip. I was worn out by the end of the day, so a planned dinner and visit to the Riverwalk (The Boy does not realize it is a tourist trap) didn't happen but we went to an art museum and the zoo and got tasty pie and tea at my favorite place in San Antonio, Mad Hatters. And I really don't feel like I harmed my chances at a quick recovery. It was just a lot of slow paced walking and I took breaks, stayed hydrated and medicated.
I'm just really glad I didn't just entirely scrap this weekend as a wash because it couldn't be perfect after getting sick. I wish I could have partied Friday night like I planned, and taken up a party invitation I received after I got back into Austin, but I'm still gonna go to bed with a smile on my face.