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Thursday, Well, at least my writing muscles feel good Of course, the rest of my body feels moderately yucky. Apparently a few people at work had some sort of unpleasant one-day bug last week which was pretty much a feverless flu -- body aches, headache, vomiting, stuff like that. I haven't thrown up (yet, she said darkly), but I hurt all over and I feel distinctly dizzy. I may wind up going home early -- hell, I already updated everything I needed to update here, so it's not like I'm shirking my duties. Yeah, I still feel guilty about taking sick days. Isn't that weird -- they're specifically designed so that you can take time off and wallow in your own little miasma without worrying about money loss or what disasters are happening in the office. And in Europe you're considered to be thoughtless and inconsiderate if you come into the office feeling unwell -- spreading the crud to your coworkers is frowned upon quite strongly. And yet, I still have that stupid Puritan work ethic that whispers, "Oh, you don't feel that bad -- stop whining, suck it up and finish out the day." Thank God I also have the Epicurean enjoyment ethic that says, "Screw that -- you don't feel well. Go home, crawl into bed and get some sleep, dammit." I may just listen to that side in a while. LATER -- yup, did just that. It's now 3:18 am, and I still don't feel 100% great, but at least I don't feel like I'm about to topple over at any moment, either. Which is cool. I still want to get some more sleep, though. Night, all.
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