Sick Day

Frequently (I’d probably be embarrassed to know just how often) when I am involved in the crush of day to day activities and to-do lists a thought inches forward from the back corner of my mind,

It sure would be nice to have a sick day…

And then I tell myself not to be stupid and how glad I am that I am almost never sick and to get back to work.

Last night we finished dinner and sat down on the couch and I thought “I am exhausted.  Wiped out.”  I could tell it wasn’t a normal night when I decided that I was really going to go to bed before 9.  By then I could also tell I was aching more than my usual amount, and that my normally helpful stretches weren’t making any difference.  Typically the medicine I take before bed (that helps with muscle pain) is plenty to help me sleep well, but last night just to be sure I took 1/2 of a sleeping pill as well.  Turns out my fears were well-founded—I spent the night shifting restlessly and finally gave up and slept the last half of the night in my comfy recliner.  By the time morning came I was sure of it:

I was sick.

I am reminded again today of the things I always remember when I’m sick:

• this is no fun
• this is no vacation
• this is uncomfortable
• I’d rather be healthy and working.

I don’t feel too bad right now, but that’s after 3 ibuprofen (an unheard of number for me) and a long hot bath.  I have hardly done a thing all day and already I’m restless and bored and wanting my regular life back.

I figured at the least I could sit here with the computer and work on some easy tasks.  Maybe the words will even start flowing and I’ll get a little batch blogging done, who knows.  But one thing is for sure—I’m hoping that tomorrow morning the regular me is back!