Sick days are only nice when you can stay in bed under a warm comforter, sipping hot tea and watching bad daytime television. Sick days are lame when you have to suck it up, take a one hour commute to work, spend a ten hour day at work (complete with an after-hours meeting), and then take a one hour commute back home before you can rest.
I'm sick today, and I'm feeling sorry for myself. I have a cough, my chest is tight, my nose is running, and I feel drained. I almost made it through winter without any significant cold or flu, and then here in the home stretch I fall flat on my face.
I can handle being sick, though, even at work. What I don't like is the fact that it is almost inevitable that Jack will also get sick. I'm doing everything I can to keep my cold away from him: no more kisses (sigh), extensive hand washing, not holding his little hands (I love doing that), etc. I just don't know if that is going to be enough. I can only hope.
And now, I'm off to work, armed with a box of Kleenex and some Gypsy Cold Care tea. Wish me luck!