Germy germy

Y'all. I just woke up from one of those dreams. You know, the kind it isn't polite to talk about on the internets? I rolled over in bed but instead of seeing TheBoy's sleeping form I was confronted with the kleenex box and a pile of tissues. Then it hit me, oh yeah, I feel like crap! Also, of course TheBoy wouldn't be home (though I could have sworn it was his job to attend to my every need! no?), its a Tuesday morning and normal people go to work on Tuesdays. People with 102 degree temperatures and wicked sore throats do not.

I am maybe the world's worst sick person. I hate being around sick people, a fear that keeps me out of the doctor's office except for dire emergencies of migraines or when she's holding my prescription refills hostage. You know. So I would never in a million years admit to being sick if I didn't have to, and I can be as stubborn as a three year old on this. I'll admit to feeling "tired" or "cold" but never sick. I can go weeks like this. Case in point - last year I ignored the "touch of a cold" I had for so many weeks I ended up in the urgent care with Pneumonia. I'm just saying is all.

Sometimes my body takes matters into its own hands (er... so to speak) like it did yesterday afternoon. I have been feeling "tired" and a little "not well" for a couple weeks now but being the trooper that I am (in denial) I still have maintained my active schedule with the house and the commuting and all that. Until yesterday. All day at work I wasn't feeling right. On the way home I made TheBoy stop to get me a Red Bull since there was painting to be done and I couldn't let a little tiredness get in the way of an organized kitchen!

I should have known by the fact that I was unreasonably cold given the outside temperature, I maybe should have guessed by the headache I couldn't kick, or maybe the increasing soreness to my throat which was not going away despite all the water I had drank. But no, it wasn't until it was about 8:00 at night when I burst in to tears (hello three year old) for no apparent reason - "I don't know why I'm crying - I just don't feel good!" - that I had to admit, maybe, I was sick. Of course that Red Bull didn't help, and laying in bed wide awake at midnight with a fever and a wicked sore throat does nothing to improve the temper. I. HAD. STUFF. TO. DO!!!

My body and I disagree clearly. But today I'm trying to be the responsible adult and have resigned myself to a day of internets browsing and reading in bed. Me, the kleenex and the cat. I've justified it to myself because the only thing I hate worse than going to the doctor's (because there are SICK people there) is going into work only to hear the sniffles of a co-worker a few cubes over. I've been known to leave my bottle of Purell on someone's desk while they are in the restroom. I mean really? Can you just keep your germs at home and not bring them to work where they are recirculated through the entire building courtesy of the central air system? That'd be super.