call divorce court

I’ve had it. Call Divorce Court; I’m not happy in this relationship anymore and I’m gettin’ out. This fever moved in without so much as a word, and took up residence acting like she owns the place. She doesn’t care about me or what I want, and I have a feeling she’s just using me as a warm body. So I’m filin’ papers, I’m done… I’m walking out on this one-sided relationship. It’s 2:30 and I’ve taken 3 doses of the antibiotic that was supposed to “make me feel a world better after just on dose,” and I’m still at 103 laid flat in front of the TV. Fast-forward a few hours and I’ve broken that last one, but still feel craptacular enough that I’m just a couple hours of feeling this way away from surrendering tomorrow’s workday. Tomorrow is Sharaun’s ultrasound and heartbeat appointment. I had planned to take an hour off in the afternoon anyway to attend, and regardless of how I feel I’m still going. Four days. That would make me out of work for four days. If it wasn’t me, if I was on the inside and someone else was out this long, I’d think they were either milking it or must have malaria or something. Four days is a long time to be out of work, especially considering I used up a Sunday “for free” as well.

Wrote that paragraph last night… but my my fever climbed to it’s second highest later on and I never got around to posting it. Thursday morning now and I’ve cautiously upgraded my condition to “feeling better.” No fever yet this morning, and I seem to have my strength back. I even went so far as to make some phone calls to key work folks, y’know – grease the skids before what I see as my imminent return for a hard Friday’s work. Later, I plan to sit down and tackle the e-mail that’s been piling up, see what emergencies I’ve missed and whether or not I should care about them. Being sick sucks, I hope the gods of sick recognize this as my “jury duty” for at least a couple years… the way I look at it, I’m paid up at least through 2007. I mean, half of the torture of being stuck in bed not being able to do anything is the list of things you’re not doing continually running through your head: the crabgrass you had big plans to hit with a second dose of poison and really finish off, finish painting the living room, work, etc. Stupid strep throat.

I’m outta here, don’t care if it sucks.

Also written on this day...

• a strong sense of duty - 2021
• cooing & head-petting - 2010
• familial familiarity - 2009
• just another weekend - 2008
• i'll finish it later - 2006