I was dressed and at the door. Then I started feeling sweaty and my husband said something to me about keys or some insignificant thing and I turned to him and said, "What am I doing? I'm not going to make it through the day. I can't go to work!" And then the pathetic, "I feel really cruddy" tears started and the tears were those sick, hot tears. 30 isn't too old to cry when you feel sick and anxious and don't know what to do, is it? Geesh. I put down my bag, put my slippers back on and called the office. I'm just one pathetic bag of pre-Christmas misery.
So my phlegm and I will be spending another day on the couch. I'm going to wash off my makeup in case anyone comes by and accuses me of looking well. I feel like poo.
If you need me, I'll be napping.