I spent the last day and a half at home with a stomachache, low-grade fever and a major headache that just wouldn’t quit. My head is still thumping, but I went to work today anyway.
I don’t like missing work – mostly because it’s a small office and having one person out of the office makes a big difference. Plus, I never know what I’m going to come back to. Usually I figure it’s a big pile of work and things rearranged on my desk and possibly a missing item or two. Y’know…like my stapler hiding on the filing cabinet across the room, my 3-hole punch relocated to the copy room and my favorite pen missing.
Sure enough, all of the above was true. Most irksome is that my favorite green pen is gone. Not that anyone took it on purpose, mind you…but it is gone nonetheless. You know how it is. You walk into someone’s office, you pick up a pen to write them a note – and you walk off with their pen.
I’d consider implanting a homing device on the thing – except that I can pick up another one at Office Max for a buck forty-nine – so it’s probably not worth the expense of installing a GPS tracking system.
Oh well. Once I located all my belongings (except for that darned green pen), I set about catching up on my workload.
Why is it that I always feel like I’m trying to catch up? I mean, I don’t think I’ve been off work sick all year and yet I feel like I’m paddling like mad under the surface.
I felt the same way at home – only I was too miserable to do anything about it. I moved from the bed to the couch to the leather lounger – and then back to the bed. All I did was sleep. And when I was awake I was massaging my aching head.
Thus, the front section of Sunday’s newspaper remained on the coffee table, along with several discarded napkins and an empty soda can. All kinds of “stuff” had been left on the kitchen counters that needed to be looked at (and then promptly thrown away). And the shoes that I kicked off on Wednesday when I came home sick from work were still sitting by the coffee table.
And I didn’t care!
That fact alone should have told Vince I wasn’t feeling well. But he thought he’d “test” me – by bringing home a pizza with black olives on it, which is my favorite pizza topping. He ate in front of me and I didn’t show the slightest interest in it – proof positive that I wasn’t feeling well.
Why is it that when you’re home sick, you wish you were feeling better so you could get all sorts of things done. But when you’re feeling well and you’re faced with those same sorts of chores, you find every excuse under the sun not to do them? Or is it just me who does that?!
I was lying in bed yesterday thinking that I should go through my closets and really get them organized. Get serious about throwing stuff out or donating it or whatever. But, naturally, since I was feeling bad, I didn’t do anything but think about it.
Fortunately, I’m feeling a bit better – and the weekend is here – so hopefully I’ll be productive this weekend. Well, at least enough to pick up my shoes from underneath the coffee table. Organizing the closets is a fairly ambitious project and just might cause me to relapse. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?
But who knows. Maybe I'll manage to stop at Office Max and pick up another pen. This time I'll look for one in hot pink. That would eliminate at least three-fourths of the office from inadvertently picking up and walking off with it.
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