Most mornings, I wake up and fantasize about being able to stay home. There are days when I sit, for minutes, day-dreaming about being a stay-at-home mom, working from home, or even being sick enough to call it a day at 6am and snuggle back in bed with a hefty dose of Nyquil or something. But, on days like today, when I actually feel sick...when I have been up coughing most of the night...when my throat hurts and my eyes burn and I feel like I may even have fever...do I stay home? Of course not...I go in anyway. Instead of day-dreaming about rest and chicken soup and daytime television, I spend my early morning hours thinking of the 10,000 reasons I have to go to work and fretting over getting fired if I decide to opt out of a visit to the doctor. The first part, I blame on my dad for instilling a strong work-ethic in us. The second part, a.k.a. the paranoia, I blame on my first boss at my first adult job. His name was Bill, and one time, after I'd been there for about a year, I felt pretty much like I do today...and I was running a fever of 102. I missed 3 days of work while a sinus infection worked its way through and then out of my system. When I returned, I was accused of lying because I didn't have a doctor's note to prove I was sick.
This happened in 1997...and, I've been paranoid about being out sick ever since.