I never get sick. Seriously I can’t recall the last time I had a cold. The sniffles, even. Or the flu. It’s been years. So I must have been overdue.
I was supposed to work an opening shift today (4:30 a.m. until 1 p.m.) but last night (the third day—four if you count Sunday when it all started with a sore throat) I took my temperature with my brand new thermometer. (I like to know if I’m running a fever so I can justify how awful I feel.) My temp was 102°. I hadn’t slept more than two hours the night before and had worked 4:30 -12 (constantly stepping to the back to cough or blow my nose).
What if I didn’t feel any better by today? What if I couldn’t get some sleep? It is usually not easy to find a replacement for an opening shift. No one wants to get up that early.
I texted my managers to warn them of my condition and to see if they knew anyone who could cover my shift. I work with some really fantastic people. A few texts and a phone call later, I had today off.
I did manage to get some sleep last night. The fever is gone. I don’t feel great by any means, but now I’m bored.
The worst thing about being sick (to me) is you don’t feel like doing anything. I can’t concentrate on reading or writing. After I’ve caught up on the morning news shows, I’m now watching (or rather not watching) some show called Ridiculousness on MTV. Apparently I’m too weak to change the channel. (But not too weak to whine and write this.)
Later I may watch Shepard of the Hills. On my recent trip to Missouri my cousins mentioned this as the only book they recall reading in high school. Another cousin had mentioned it to me a few years ago, but I had no idea what it was. Apparently it was written by a local author and made into a movie starring John Wayne. The next thing I know, my aunt is handing me the VHS tape which belonged to my parents. Yes, folks, that’s how desperate I am for entertainment. And it’s only 8 a.m.