Humpday Hump

It's 6.30am, and I'm taking the term Humpday a bit too literally. Currently glaring at a cup of tea and sulking in running shorts.  I set my alarm last night for 5.45am to go to CrossFit, as it's the only time I can make it on a week of late shifts, and I've actually found something I love enough to get up at an hour normally reserved only for when I have a plane to catch (rare).  Woke up feeling like the guy from the GoCompare ads had spent the night alternately sitting on and singing into my head.  Rough.

I'm not crawling on the floor ill, but decided to be sensible for once and stop myself from doing anything that would make me feel worse and prevent me from going later in the week.  The last time I exercised with a cold (parkrun, Christmas day), I ended up with full blown boxing day can't-get-off-the-sofa snot/wheeze fun times.  Still.  Just because I used common sense for once doesn't mean I can't sulk about it.  Plus, A has gone on ahead without me, without so much as sideways head cock in sympathy of my plight.  Bastard.  Doesn't he know that lady colds are so much worse than manflu?  Delicate creatures and all that.

So delicate.

Hey ho, though.  I'm not dying, and I've been gifted a pocket of extra day to do with what I will (except for lift heavy things...goddammit, I want to lift the heavy things!!).  And, the fact that my brain hit the "nope" button two runs in a row this week at mile 5 feels like it makes more sense.  As does yesterday's weirdness at work:

• Wanted to cry every time someone asked me a question at work.  My job is to sit in a chair answering questions. 
• Ear popped in middle of phone call, making me deaf and introducing a pleasant "WEEEEEEEEEH!!" noise to my head that lasted 2 whole hours. 
• Cleverly placed fist in boiling hot mug of tea while chatting.
• Somehow managed to trip over a closed door.
• Karate chopped headset off head while on phone. Far as aware, customer oblivious.  I hope.

Second thoughts, might be best during this extra daytime, for the good of myself and everyone else, that I just sit very, very still....

Just in case you also feel like a badger's arse and need cheering up too, here is a picture of my cat meeting balloons for the first time.  Happy Hump Day!

 

"WTF?!"

I'm Not Sick But I'm Not Well

....except I am sick, but I wouldn't be able to reference a song I like then.

Some evidence of said sickness.  I would take a picture, but my appearance might offend some sensitive viewers.

Got sent home from work yesterday.  Never been sent home in the middle of the day during this job before. My guts have been conspiring against me since the weekend in a way that's best described as severe crampy bastard butterflies from Hell.

Until yesterday, all they had done was put me off my food, which meant I could afford more things. I love things. Hurrah for things. And stuff too.  But somewhere around my morning break, my body decided that to jazz up my working day, I required a headache, the shakes and intermittent dry heaving.

Evidently, my body has shit for brains.

Anyway, my manager clocked my sudden decline into pasty, clammy pre-barf mode and asked if I wanted to go home,  at which I bravely welled up and squeaked out a "no!"  Which is wimp for "yes, but I don't want you to think I'm being dramatic, and I don't want to let anyone down."

Fortunately, said manager is a surprisingly skillful mind reader, and he sent me packing anyway.  

It's now the following day, and I'm still on the sofa, dolefully gagging into a cup of tea.  And I've got to thinking that school-age me would be loving this.  If you have a sick day and you're still in school uniform, it is both a nightmare and a treat.  I recall thinking at the age of 11 

"Yay, my tonsils are so big that I might choke on them! I can't wait for the doctors to cut them out of my throat with a sharp knife so I can have a week off school!  AND I've heard that I get to eat ice cream for breakfast for a few days after! Score!!"

The only part of that attitude that remains with me to this day is the feeling that if food is the outcome, then whatever it is I have to do to obtain it is SO worth it.

So. Because I have nothing to do bar make noises like a poorly skilled beat boxer, I've compiled a short list if why being school-age sick is a much, much sweeter deal than being grown-up sick:

- Mum: This goes straight to the top of the list!  Deep down, all everyone wants out of life is to

be confined to the sofa under a mountain of quilts, in front of a selection of their favourite films while the person who already spends most of her time raising you pumps you full of attention, affection, Lucozade and chicken soup.

To this day, I can't even smell Lucozade without feeling instantly green in the gills, but allowing myself to be completely and wholly pathetic because mum's got this shit covered is something I remember fondly.

- Freedom!!: No responsibility, no early mornings, no to-ing and fro-ing between classes and no being forced to answer questions in German whilst Mrs Wesner throws Pedro the stuffed monkey at your head.  That's not code for anything. She actually threw a monkey at us and made us give her directions to the station and list all the family members we had.

Sure, you might get a bit more homework, but you know that once you've sweated whatever plague you've caught out in front of several viewings of Casper The Friendly Ghost, your friends will be waiting to accept you back into the fold.  Maybe even take a couple of monkeys to the face for you until you're feeling 100%.

But my reaction as an adult (in body at least) in full time employment? 

"Guiiiiiiilt!!! Already let everyone down! Someone's doing my work as well as theirs! I'm a terrible person! I can't afford to be off work anyway! Daytime TV sucks! Horrible, selfish Becky for being ill! Work's going to be busy today and it's going to be all my fault! Guilt, guilt, GUIIIIIIIIILT-AH!"

- Appearace: Ilness isn't supposed to be attractive, I know.  This is why, when we're perfectly fine and dandy, when someone has the gall to ask us if we're okay because we don't look very well, the only response that springs to mind is a swift punch to the throat.

When you're little, it's sort-of cute to be all helpless and pale. Sniffly and snotty.  It elicits sympathy in the clan elders.  Nowadays, if anyone were to see me perspiring on the sofa, mouth agog, fringe both pasted to my face and pointing to the heavens as I gag, I wouldn't be surprised at a quick retreat as they make the sign of the cross over and over to protect themselves from whatever demon has me in its clutches.

Well.  I'm off to feel sorry for myself and hope that Beelzebub gets bored of reruns of terrible American sitcoms and flees my body.  Wish me luck!

I AM LUCIFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!!!!! *projectile vomits*