sick, like the doggie*

Suspiciously, the symptoms started about an hour-and-a-half after the flu injection my doctor tricked me into (with his wily doctor skills). This was shortly before he made me pee into a bowl. Mind you, it was easier than peeing into one of those little plastic cups, it's just that he actually refers to it as "making a weewee into the little bakkie". It makes me feel about four years old.

Anyway, peeing over and done with, blue-cheese-and-avo burger devoured, book bought**, I started feeling awful. Muzzy head, fever, coughing. Luckily I was on leave for two days. And after that it was only a half-day's work until the weekend. Because I used it all on being sick.

Then I came back to work, and between bringing the destruction of everything in existence***, running around looking for things, trying to educate 15-year-olds, wrangling the website designer, and carrying things, I got sick again. I had a day off yesterday but got called four times (once, annoyingly, to be asked where a remote control was), and was asked nicely to pleeeeease come in today.

Now I feel like the undead, truly feverish and nauseous and gurky***. So, Zombie undead, not cool Anne Rice vampire undead. So, thanks, job. You reward me in so many ways.

* wait, where does that expression even come from? Dogs don't get flu or colds, as far as I know... and I'm not into eating my own poop, so...
** so I finally read Scar Tissue by Anthony Kiedis (took eight hours): okay, dude, enough about your girlfriends and heroin. yes, they were all awesome in bed. Yes, you took a lot of heroin. let's not belabour that point.
*** or something like that: apparently now we've reached the point where nothing can be done without me, but everything that goes wrong is also my fault.
**** screw you it's a word.