Thursday, January 27, 2005
Cabin Fever
It turns out staying home from work isn't nearly as much fun as you'd think. To be fair, a large part of that is probably because a lot of my time over the past few days has been spent either vomiting, praying not to vomit, or feeling somewhat relieved after having vomited. But there's also the whole issue of daytime television. Unless I want to see news, 19-year-olds dating, or old episodes of Columbo, there's really not much for me. I ended up watching a whole episode of MTV's Made today, in which a high school "tomboy" obsessed with Star Wars and sword fighting aspired to land a bit part in her school's production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. It was horrifying, and yet I couldn't look away. Literally. The illness had sapped all of my strength.
Of course, I tried to go back to work yesterday, and that was a huge failure. I ended up almost having a breakdown near the copier and taking a cab home at 2:30, praying that the unconscionably friendly driver would stop chatting about the weather long enough for me to either pass out or kill him. No such luck. Then I crawled up my stairs and changed into my flannel pants -- a sure sign of regression. I think I slept for eleven hours last night.
Anyway, the unfortunate details of my home incarceration are probably no more interesting to the world at large than they are to me, so I suppose I'll sign off. At least I only have three hours left until prime time, when TV's brightest stars come out to shine.
It turns out staying home from work isn't nearly as much fun as you'd think. To be fair, a large part of that is probably because a lot of my time over the past few days has been spent either vomiting, praying not to vomit, or feeling somewhat relieved after having vomited. But there's also the whole issue of daytime television. Unless I want to see news, 19-year-olds dating, or old episodes of Columbo, there's really not much for me. I ended up watching a whole episode of MTV's Made today, in which a high school "tomboy" obsessed with Star Wars and sword fighting aspired to land a bit part in her school's production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. It was horrifying, and yet I couldn't look away. Literally. The illness had sapped all of my strength.
Of course, I tried to go back to work yesterday, and that was a huge failure. I ended up almost having a breakdown near the copier and taking a cab home at 2:30, praying that the unconscionably friendly driver would stop chatting about the weather long enough for me to either pass out or kill him. No such luck. Then I crawled up my stairs and changed into my flannel pants -- a sure sign of regression. I think I slept for eleven hours last night.
Anyway, the unfortunate details of my home incarceration are probably no more interesting to the world at large than they are to me, so I suppose I'll sign off. At least I only have three hours left until prime time, when TV's brightest stars come out to shine.
