Greetings from the infirmary

I had a lovely, peaceful holiday weekend until late Monday afternoon, when some kind of "bug" got hold of me and didn't turn loose. For the next 30-plus hours, I relied on the companionship of my good friend John.

I did make an effort to go to work yesterday, but that lasted only about ten minutes before I turned around and headed back home. Once home, I didn't feel like reading or even watching TV, so I slept almost all day long and then on through the night with no difficulty except that created by a furry intruder.

Late yesterday afternoon, my older daughter came over to stay with me. She'd had a wisdom tooth pulled earlier in the day and wasn't in much better shape than I was. We figured that the two of us together had at least a halfway good chance of taking care of our four dogs in the manner to which they've become accustomed, and it actually worked out pretty well. Would have been fine, in fact, had Lucy not been so excited about the idea of a sleepover. She went from room to room all through the night, jumping on and off the beds to check and see if anyone was awake and willing to play.

This morning I felt weak but well enough to go to work, and I've continued to feel better throughout the day. My daughter, on the other hand, called me this afternoon to tell me she now has whatever bug I had yesterday, so she's still stretched out in my guestroom. The virus was bad enough without the complication of an aching jaw, so she totally has my sympathy.

Two people told me today that there's a virus going around, and I know from experience that if there's one within a 20-mile radius, I'll catch it. That being said, I rarely get colds or flu-type illnesses (knocking on wood here), and I almost never miss work.

Which brings me to the point of all this whining: One day in the 80s, I faked being sick to stay home from work. It was the only time in my life I ever did that, but I woke up just too exhausted to deal with all the crap I expected to come across my desk that day. I really did feel guilty, but I picked up the phone in spite of it, called my boss, and told him I "must have a 24-hour virus or something."

The next day, feeling rested and ready to face whatever came along, I went to work. Within the first 30 minutes I was there, three co-workers called in sick. They all said they thought they'd "picked up whatever it was" that I had.