I Cannot do ED at 5 AM

With a 103 degree temperature and a headache that all hangovers would be jealous of, I crawled to the bathroom at 5 a.m. to find E.D. all over. Seems this horrific black plague hit Fat Cat like scallions at Chi Chi’s and the explosive diarrhea some how was left for me to clean off the seat before I could go. Since the plague has only taken up residence in my head (I find it ironic that my brain is what is effected by the plague while my husband’s area of infection is much lower, where I have always assumed his brain really was) I choose to crawl to the second bathroom. Thank heaven my nose is so stuffed with snot that I cannot smell that bathroom. I drug myself to work, with a box of tissues and a can of chicken noodle soup, because I have been told I was not considered for a move in the company because of my attendance issues (by the way, I asked for my attendance record, to see how many days I have actually missed, but then the subject kept changing and obviously it is not a clear strike as someone thought it was). Upon arrival before anyone else, I actually did go into my bosses cube and cough. Yes I did it. I know it was childish but I am sick and disorientated by the fever. She however called of today. I spend 4 hours staggering though paperwork and trying to not vomit from the phlegm that is dripping down my throat, while one of my co-workers is breathing through her shirt to avoid my germs. (Note, while she was in the restroom, I went to her cube and touched stuff). I ran to the candy store on my lunch, because I have a huge desire to spend money on chocolate, that I will use to coat everything once I get better. As I am holding the chocolate in my hands, it actually starts melting. My fever is that high. I come back to work and the exhaustion of the trip breaks me into tears. I just sit for the next 4 hours crying, at my desk. A picture of the total professional at work. By the time I get home, I just want to collapse. I am on the couch when I realize the plague has now spread to the dog, who, while perched atop my resting body, throws up his body weight in partially digested cat food. I just cried.

The depression death spiral continues. Just in time for the holiday weekend. I am so freakin’ pathetic.