I don't like taking time off from work for being sick. Especially on a Friday or a Monday. I'm always certain that someone thinks I'm just padding a weekend.
Well, I left work an hour early yesterday because I was feeling woozy. When I got home, I crawled directly into bed. I was asleep by 7:30pm. I woke up at 10:30 to pee and noticed I was chilling. Great. I piled the blankets on the bed and dove under them. I then proceeded to wake up every two hours, ALL NIGHT LONG, peed every time, and fell back into bed immediately.
This morning, the chills were gone, but the gastro-intestinal explosions began. My toilet routinely became The 4th Of July in Hell throughout this long, awful night.
I called in to talk to my boss. I told him I was feeling better (at least I wasn't woozy and chilling any longer), and once the "fireworks" were over, I'd head in. Well, I didn't tell him as much as I just told you, 'cuz, you know, who wants to hear that? It's now 2pm, and the hits just keep on coming.
Screw it: today is an official "sick day".
I'm loading up on fluids, to help my body pass whatever is kicking around in me. I'll check back in on Sunday, for my Mop Up.
Good night!
[Late Addition Edition: It's 5am on Saturday morning, folks. I'm still a miserable, sick puppy. If you don't hear from me tomorrow, someone alert the police. Thanks.]
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