After all, I'm not really "sick."
I feel mostly okay. Though I'm utterly exhausted, even after a full night's sleep. I guess I can also admit a little achey-ness and soreness. And slight dizziness.
Let's not overlook the sniffles.
So maybe my "sick day" is actually a sick day. Why so hard to admit I'm not feeling well?
Evidence I'm not quite me:
- This morning's fantasy: an indoor stroll at the mall; a hot, salty, buttery pretzel; an "awwww"-filled peek in the window of the pet store. Hell, maybe even a "massage" on one of those pleather chairs.
- I'm contemplating turning the tv on. Maybe there will be something good on one of the talk shows?
- I don't really give a hoot what's for dinner or if we even eat dinner.
- Didn't even bother to weigh myself today. What can I do about it, anyway?
- Not considering my sloth "lazy." Certain it's "essential."
Unngh. I think you get the idea.
