Pass the tissue

I hate being sick. It is never any fun. Even if you get a day off you spend it lying on your back staring at the ceiling struggling to breathe. You can’t talk on the phone cuz no one wants to hear you hack up a lung and you feel like you brain is about to ooze out of your ear. It is a truly sorry existence.

I have to admit I am not that far along as yet but that doesn’t give me any comfort. I am sitting, at work mind you, my throat is sore, my nose continually feels like I am going to sneeze and I have a kink in my neck that is radiating pain across my shoulder and down my back. I have to sit here in this not-good-for-your-posture chair and answer the phone all day. Yay me.

I mean I am not feeling so bad that I can’t do the work but I am feeling bad enough that I want to curl up in a ball. Maybe crawl into my bellybutton and escape, I may run into Stimpy while I am there. But here is definitely not where I want to be. Answering the phone trying to sound chipper and failing miserably isn’t doing me any favours. If I hear “You don’t sound fine,” one more time I may go off the deep end. Just because I answer “How are you?” with a “Fine,” that sounds like someone’s dying last word doesn’t mean you have the right to question my response. I have given you an answer lets get on with it so I can put down this surprisingly heavy phone.

The weather isn’t helping much either. It is windy, cold, overcast, and threatening rain. I am not impressed with March so far. It started with a couple of pleasant days and has degraded ever since. I guess I will survive as long as there is no more snow. I think this winter I have seen enough to last me a life time.

I think just typing about being sick is making me feel worse. It may just be a psychosomatic response to discussing all these symptoms but you try to explain that to the phlegm that is amassing at the back of my throat. Anyone want to hear more about it? I guess not.

Tra

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Tra

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