Where have I been?
I don't know. Sick. Tired. Sick.
Really sick.
Like I was in the middle of a company dinner and I had to run out mid toast to be sick in the bathroom.
It's a damn good thing I have good health insurance now so going to a doctor is not a concern. It's not even expensive. Twenty five dollars for a visit and ten dollars for my medicine. That's a pretty good deal, if you ask me.
There's a new rule at work that if we're going to call in sick we have to call the owner himself on his personal cell phone and tell him, and then he'll call whoever needs to know.
Well, after leaving the dinner early and being sick all the next day (which happened to be my day off), I was still sick on Thursday. But the idea of calling the owner was so horrifying, not only because he's the big boss but also because I tend to cry when I describe what feels wrong in my body, that I decided it was better to go to work anyway and just get sent home.
It was brilliant. I went to work in a sweatshirt and jeans, stayed for thirty minutes, and had a coworker take me home with no fuss, and I did not have to call the owner. That's the way to do it, you know. Don't call in. Go to work and then just have Manager Man send you home.
If I'm ever feeling sick again I will do that.
I've missed you guys, but I haven't caught up on posts. It seems everybody keeps living their lives without me. It's a little disappointing. I kind of hoped that when I disappeared the whole world stopped functioning until I came back again. But it seems you guys are still up and functioning. Way to crush my dreams, guys.
Seriously, though. I fully intend to get back into the thick of this particular blogosphere as soon as possible. Which means after I'm finished changing my sister's paper. Second one, you know, and she hasn't improved. It's a nightmare. In fact, I'm supposed to be editing now but I can't make sense of this one opening sentence and it's baffling. I can't move forward with the paragraph until I know what it means. And I have no idea what it means.
I may not be the best writer in the world, but I'm pretty sure my thoughts are always coherent, at the very least, even if they don't make actual sense. (For instance, I'm terrified of sharks appearing in swimming pools. I express the idea well, but it still doesn't make sense.)
Anyway, I'm going back to the paper now. So...you know. Thanks for still being around?
When you're done with sissy's paper you can then read my short, which you should enjoy since you hate when I continue something. Now you can get the full story, and then edit my own ignorance for me.
ReplyDeleteDoes that mean you didn't leave it to be continued? Hang on. I'll catch up to it. I promise. It will be way more fun than my current challenge...
DeleteA hole? No. No. I just figured that a hairy unwashed Doug abducted you and took you back this Howard Hughes-like lair where he forced you to model different outfits made entirely out of cheese.
ReplyDeleteAnd yes, your writing is very coherent, now that you mention it. I dont think I've ever once had a hard time knowing what you were talking about. Clarity is an underrated virtue, but as I always say: Good writing should be like good acting. If it's done right, you shouldn't even notice it.
The mental image of myself modeling a ballgown made of cheese is just hilarious. And a little disturbing. But mostly funny.
DeleteThat's exactly why I like the blogs I do. Because it's so nice to enjoy them without thinking, "Huh?"
Except Scott. Sometimes I have to reread Scott's to make sure I got it right the first time. But that's because his just makes me think more. And your posts about Relativity, now that I think about it. I couldn't wrap my head around what you were saying. But that was the subject matter, not the writing.
No worries, the new "typical" edge to it will relieve the need for brain power...at least until I can no longer contain the toxicity of being atypical...which.is.hard.to.do...
DeleteThere isn't enough time in the world to express what is wrong with your "typical" monstrosity.
DeleteAnd what is that supposed to mean? I found paint drying to be something of a true art form :P
DeleteAre we talking about the same thing? The teenager awful modern interpretation of English that is a headache in your eye?
DeleteI was wondering where you were, but I didn't want to bug you, figuring you probably had important things to do in the Fabulous Flautist World.
ReplyDeleteNow I'm doubly happy that you're back and that you're feeling better.
I was a little sad...I mean, Doug disappeared and everybody freaked out. I go away and nobody sent out a search party.
DeleteI'm a little jealous.
Just kidding. (Mostly. I'm young. I'm entitled to jealousy.) Mostly it just sucked being sick. I don't do sick well. It's better to be better.
Well, when Doug disappeared the only person we knew in Texas was you. And you refused to go look for him. Then when you took a powder the only person, once again, we knew in Texas was... Doug. And nobody knew where to find him either.
DeleteNow you have both resurfaced at the same time.
Hmmm..... Suspicious.
I didn't refuse to look for him. I found him. I told you all exactly where he was.
DeleteI wasn't modeling ballgowns made of cheese for him, I swear.
Yay! You're back! I missed my best blogosphere buddy!
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry you've been sick! That's the worst! But I'm also glad you're feeling better now. So many emotions...
Now don't you go disappearing again! I'll send my thugs after you! :)
I missed you, too! You wouldn't believe how lonely it is here without your blogger voice in my head.
DeleteMy reappearance appears to be something of an emotional roller coaster starter. I'm glad to be back, though. That's a stable one.
Thugs don't scare me. I have a five pound warrior dog to protect me. :P
Don't listen to Bryan. He is still upset about all the times I turned downs HIS offers to model cheese for me. Once was enough.
ReplyDeleteBeing sick sucks. In a bad way. Don't do it anymore, okay?
I missed the... pinkness... around here. I may or may not start posting soon, but I definitely need to check in more often.
What? He doesn't look as good in the ballgown?
DeleteThat's not his fault. Men just don't look as good in dresses.
I have absolutely no intention of ever getting sick again, thank you. No promises, of course, but I'm going to start taking vitamins or something because sick sucks.
And if you miss the pinkness...you could paint your wall behind your computer pink like my blog! Then you'd never have to miss this spot when you decide to abandon us for weeks at a time...
I hope you are feeling better now! *Hugs* I've been missing-in-blogging-action, too, mostly due to a runaway sandman and some serious stress. Ugh. I'm glad you will be back soon. :) Love reading your posts. :)
ReplyDeleteLots better.
DeleteI hope you caught the sandman eventually and tied him up so he can never escape again. And that you made him take your stress and stick it in his night cap. I like your posts too and I intend to catch up one of these days.
Oh, darlin, stomach bugs are the worst. Wishing you a world of ginger ale and chicken broth and a sick-free week to come. And a nearby trashcan. Because that's important.
ReplyDeleteYes, the trashcan is always important.
DeleteAnd then did you fall back into a hole again?
ReplyDeleteDon't make me come over there!
Come over where? To the hole I fell in?
DeleteYou can't save me. I'm buried under work and until someone actually hires someone...there's not much that can be done.
Well if I die of information starvation, I'm leaving a note for my wife to sue your boss.
ReplyDeleteSheesh! How deep is that hole? Should we install an elevator? Call search and rescue?
ReplyDelete"LOCAL BLOGGER TRAPPED IN A HOLE.....film at 11!"