Sick

I am sick. Don’t worry I’m not dying. It’s winter in Michigan and after weeks of family events with sick kids where I escaped illness, I finally succumbed. It’s just a bad cold, but I called in sick feeling awful on Monday- stuffy head, splitting headache, sore throat, chills, man-voice, ya know, typical bad cold stuff. I worked 6-7 hours both Tues and Weds and then spent all of yesterday on the couch. Ugh. Today I’m finally feeling like I’m on the mend, hurray! The energy returns!!
Things that strike me as funny when I’m sick:
1. I am gone from approximately 6.30 each morning until around 5.30 pm most days. I do occasionally stop home at lunch, but typically the dogs spend around 8-10 hours a day at home, alone, and do not have accidents in the house. When I am sick and on the couch, Maggie wants to go out approximately once an hour. If I refuse (which was about half the time) she then picks a fight with Suze because when they fight, I inevitably say “Not in my house!!” and make them go out. Instead I made them both lay down and stop fighting. Nice try Mags.

2. I never think of being sick as something to get “good” at but I’ve decided I’m decidedly not good at being sick. It makes me feel rotten physically (duh), not to mention weepy, out of control, and frustrated at being both weepy and out of control. (Note: I was only weepy day 1, the others I was just frustrated and exhausted). And I kept laying there thinking about all the things I wanted to get done and didn’t have the energy to do. Like I said, I’m not good at being sick.

3. Suzie is also not good at me being sick, but provides an excellent companion anyway. At least once every half hour her cute face pokes up over my pillow, as she tries to lick my face, checking to see if I’m okay, and usually attempts to climb onto my lap to cuddle. And though I always refuse to let her join me on the couch, it’s strangely comforting to have someone checking in on you and wanting to make it better. She spent most of the day napping next to me when Maggie wasn’t picking fights. For the record, other than using me as a means to go outside, Maggie doesn’t give a crap about me- she checked on me exactly twice all day, and both were after I refused to let her outside.

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