A sniffly weekend recap
It’s just my luck that I would try (and succeed!) at styling my hair just like the picture I raved about in last week’s Things I LoveThursday post, only to get to enjoy it for all of 2 hours before I got sent home sick from work.
|The back. A little hard to see, and a little Home on the Prairie.|
|The finished product! |
I have a crooked eye and a rogue eyebrow. Awesome.
I showed up to work last Friday morning looking, in opinion, far more adorable than usual in my new fall scarf, despite waking up with a sore throat and a general feeling of “bleh”. I didn’t pay much attention to my symptoms because I wake up with a sore throat frequently and it normally just needs a few hours to fade on its own. However, my boss came through the front door of the office, took one look at me and asked, “Are you ill?”
Okay, well, apparently he didn’t think I looked cute.
I insisted I was fine, noticing for the first time that my voice sounded stuffy and far away in my suddenly clogged ears. My boss then reminded me that if I’m sick, I need to go home because we don’t want to run the risk of contaminating other employees.
This is when I realized that I might possibly be sick because his comment made me burst into tears (after making sure he was in his office and my back was completely turned to him). Though I’m sure it wasn’t his intention, he made me out to be some kind of inconsiderate a-hole with the plague. I always thought it was commendable to not call in sick every time you have a little sneeze or sniffle, but apparently this office was very germ-oriented and me and my sore throat were not welcome. I felt vulnerable and ashamed.
“You just don’t seem like yourself,” he said later, concerned. He probably wised-up to the fact that you just don't say, "You look sick" to a woman unprompted.
Again, I insisted I was peachy, but promised to keep my distance and get my work done. But about an hour later I stood up to grab a file and became so woozy, I tripped over my own feet.
“Okay, I’m leaving,” I said, grabbing my purse.
I drove back home and was greeted by a very confused Joey who wasn’t expecting me home for lunch for another 2 hours. “I’m sick,” I answered his questioning brown eyes. “Let’s nap.”
I fished our fluffiest, most comfortable blanket out of the linen closet and wrapped myself up like a snotty little burrito on the couch, feeling incredibly sorry for myself while I channel surfed (I hate daytime TV). I passed out for a solid 4 hours and when I woke up, my throat burned and I didn’t have the strength to lift my head or move. Huh, I thought miserably. My boss must be some kind of physic because I really am sick.
Needless to say, it was a very uneventful weekend in the P. House. We postponed our plans to have friends over for the Colts game on Sunday, and my ever-loving husband hunkered down and waited out my cold right alongside me. He rubbed my feet, fetched my nasal decongestants, and rented The Five-Year Engagement for us to watch on Friday night while I lay in a pathetic heap under my blanket complaining about being either too hot or too cold
He even prepared some of my favorite comfort food, which in our house includes giant turkey sandwiches with thick slices of deli meat and fresh cheese piled onto whole wheat bread with our secret ingredient—potato chips. I love the crunch of salt and vinegar chips on my sandwiches and was so thankful this cold wasn’t affecting my sense of taste. Since I had no appetite on Friday, I didn’t feel the least bit guilty about having seconds.
But the thing about staying home sick is that you eventually get bored. I felt euphoric, almost guilty for being at home legitimately sick while the rest of the world was working on Friday afternoon, but by Saturday night I was climbing the walls looking for something to do.
I’m feeling much better, but my nose is still stuffy and whenever I breathe out it makes an annoying whistling sound. I had to turn up my music at work so no one could hear me playing a nose kazoo all day. I'm just glad to be out of the house and not feeling faint every time I stand up.
How was your weekend?