sicko
So, LiveJournal, how are you?
Today was a sick day for me, and so, for the first time in a looooong time, I find myself caught up on the internet and staring at the blank space of a new LJ entry.
It must be said: I hate sick days. I hate them. I hate them so much that I'd rather be sick on a weekend than be sick during the week and have to take a sick day. Is that the first symptom of being a workaholic? Actually, it's probably about the 12th sign of being a workaholic - I won't waste my time pretending that I'm not a bit of a workaholic.
So, while I feel not a single pang of guilt spending an entire weekend on the couch accomplishing nothing, today has been torture for me. But there has been one silver lining - at least I can stop feeling like a wuss for cutting my last work-out short. It's a relief to find that there was a good reason that I could barely walk on the treadmill, let alone run.
I've also become sure that (as I had always suspected) you CAN judge a book by it's cover. How do I know this? In all of my years of visiting the library, I have only ever really chosen books by their cover. Now that I'm reading books that are chosen by other people with adapting them for movies in mind, the quality of my reading material has plummeted. I promise you, I did a better job of choosing books by their covers than producers do by any means.
So now I'm left desperately hoping that my immune system, modern medicine and a minor miracle will combine to make me healthy by the time I wake up tomorrow. Knowing me, I'll be going in to work either way.
Today was a sick day for me, and so, for the first time in a looooong time, I find myself caught up on the internet and staring at the blank space of a new LJ entry.
It must be said: I hate sick days. I hate them. I hate them so much that I'd rather be sick on a weekend than be sick during the week and have to take a sick day. Is that the first symptom of being a workaholic? Actually, it's probably about the 12th sign of being a workaholic - I won't waste my time pretending that I'm not a bit of a workaholic.
So, while I feel not a single pang of guilt spending an entire weekend on the couch accomplishing nothing, today has been torture for me. But there has been one silver lining - at least I can stop feeling like a wuss for cutting my last work-out short. It's a relief to find that there was a good reason that I could barely walk on the treadmill, let alone run.
I've also become sure that (as I had always suspected) you CAN judge a book by it's cover. How do I know this? In all of my years of visiting the library, I have only ever really chosen books by their cover. Now that I'm reading books that are chosen by other people with adapting them for movies in mind, the quality of my reading material has plummeted. I promise you, I did a better job of choosing books by their covers than producers do by any means.
So now I'm left desperately hoping that my immune system, modern medicine and a minor miracle will combine to make me healthy by the time I wake up tomorrow. Knowing me, I'll be going in to work either way.