Sep. 11th, 2009 09:58 am
At least into the mauve if not the pink
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muckefuckSo this is how my week has gone: Monday evening, I had a scratchy throat, but I ascribed it to all the drinking I did on Sunday and Monday. (No matter how many Tums I take, there's always a little acid burn afterwards.) Tuesday morning, it was beyond scratchy into sore, and since I was worn out anyway, I decided to seize the opportunity to take a few grains from my mountain of accumulated sick time, rationalising this to myself as a prophylactic measure.
Prophylactic my ass! Knowing what I do now, I would've dragged my carcass in regardless since I woke up on Wednesday feeling like death left out and warmed over. Thursday was up and down (quite literally when the attacks of dizziness began to hit) but I was determined to make it in today and--ta-da!--here I be. I'm worn out from several nights of poor sleep, but I'm no longer gushing mucus and I can actually talk to a coworkers for two minutes without my eyelids becoming heavy. In other words, I am fit for service.
The time at home wasn't entirely wasted since I did finish reading Spoken Here. (I was rather hoping to find that Abley's ill-advised forays into linguistics were limited to his briefer linking chapters, but unfortunately they're only concentrated there. Still he gets more right than most non-specialists would and some damn fine interviews in the process.) Also, I did the minimum necessary to prepare our home for out-of-town guests who I will hopefully fail to infect.
Now, of course, I'm looking towards the weekend and wondering what this means for my plans. The out-of-towners arrive tonight and heaven knows what they expect to do tomorrow. I offered to take them with me to Celtic Fest, but it remains to be seen whether I'll be in adequate shape to go myself. I really, really can't be sick again next week, so it behooves me to be conservative much as it rubs me the wrong way. After all, this is my first cold worthy of the name since, what, January? So I really can't bitch about the time it's taking up.
Prophylactic my ass! Knowing what I do now, I would've dragged my carcass in regardless since I woke up on Wednesday feeling like death left out and warmed over. Thursday was up and down (quite literally when the attacks of dizziness began to hit) but I was determined to make it in today and--ta-da!--here I be. I'm worn out from several nights of poor sleep, but I'm no longer gushing mucus and I can actually talk to a coworkers for two minutes without my eyelids becoming heavy. In other words, I am fit for service.
The time at home wasn't entirely wasted since I did finish reading Spoken Here. (I was rather hoping to find that Abley's ill-advised forays into linguistics were limited to his briefer linking chapters, but unfortunately they're only concentrated there. Still he gets more right than most non-specialists would and some damn fine interviews in the process.) Also, I did the minimum necessary to prepare our home for out-of-town guests who I will hopefully fail to infect.
Now, of course, I'm looking towards the weekend and wondering what this means for my plans. The out-of-towners arrive tonight and heaven knows what they expect to do tomorrow. I offered to take them with me to Celtic Fest, but it remains to be seen whether I'll be in adequate shape to go myself. I really, really can't be sick again next week, so it behooves me to be conservative much as it rubs me the wrong way. After all, this is my first cold worthy of the name since, what, January? So I really can't bitch about the time it's taking up.