mercy

I usually only call in sick to work when something other than me needs my attention, like a motorcycle on some winding mountain roads. It's preferable. Today I called off, though, because of a sore throat and seal bark cough and a fever that's kept me prone since yesterday evening. It sucks, because man-voiced, hacking women aren't sexy, and because my body is adding insult to injury, and because I would have rather been at work, almost always. But this sickness doesn't suck, and the timing of it doesn't suck, because S is working the late shift today so was home this morning to brew me tea and listen to my chest as I breathed and tuck the three blankets in around my shoulders as I slept the morning away. And he had chicken noodle soup ready at lunch time, and DayQuil, and the kind of cuddly affection I have craved for a lifetime and finally have, all the time. I have been asleep for probably five of the past ten daytime hours, and have been carefully dosed and doted on the whole time. And though S has left for work, I'm safe and warm and there's more soup ready to heat up, and I am realizing it's ok to just do NOTHING but lounge around and recoup when you're feeling poorly instead of trying to push through. It's ok that I'm behind at work now--I'll catch up tomorrow and Friday--and that the dishes won't get washed yet this evening--they'll keep--and it's ok that the backing up laundry backs up further--we are far from strapped--and the milk might run out before I get to the store, and that's ok, we'll be fine. We still have orange juice. S will be back sometime after midnight to slide into bed beside me and I'll sleep soundly and I'll feel better in the morning.