The cold I mentioned on Friday had a chance to incubate over the past couple of days. Apparently, the weekends agree with this bug, because it woke up this morning perky, well-rested, and full of vigor.
Some people might believe that simply waking up sick on a Monday would be the lowlight of the day. These people would be mistaken.
“It’ll be a while before I can look any of those people — or Conference Room 7J — in the eye again.”
Others might think that getting out of bed is the worst part. Also wrong. Still others would say that getting ready for work is the worst, or driving to the office, or sitting at a desk and trying to be productive when all you want is a three-hour nap and a napalm decongestant. These people? Incorrect.
Not that I can throw stones, mind you. I had it wrong for a long time, too — until today, in fact. Until roughly a quarter till four this afternoon, I thought that the absolute worst part of having a cold on a Monday would be sitting in a crowded meeting at work desperately trying not to involuntarily pass gas during a violent coughing fit.
Now I see the error of my ways, of course. Now I know that the worst part of having a cold on a Monday is sitting in a crowded meeting at work desperately trying not to involuntarily pass gas during a violent coughing fit, and failing completely.
It’ll be a while before I can look any of those people — or Conference Room 7J — in the eye again. At least I didn’t sneeze. If I’d sneezed, I might’ve needed fresh pants.
Of course, the problem with cough-farting is that you can never be sure how much social damage has been done. You’re too busy convulsing and wheezing to know what others may have heard. Was it audible at all? Was it really loud? Did it make that awful motorboat-in-a-muddy-swamp sort of sound? There’s no way to know.
(That’s not entirely true, I suppose. If the whole roomful of people look at you with gaping jaws, and follow that with hooting and pointing, then you can be fairly certain: motorboat in a swamp.
Otherwise, you’re in the dark.)
While I can’t be certain I embarrassed myself in front of most everyone I share a building with, there’s a very good chance that I did. I clenched — oh, for the life of me, I clenched — but it was to no avail. Sometimes the whooping cough and the barking spiders go hand-in-hand, and there’s little we mere mortals can do about it.
On the good side, with all the hacking and kaffing possible crippling shame, I didn’t feel bad at all begging out of the office early, and getting some rest at home. I didn’t like it much when the boss snickered under his breath and said, ‘Sure, putt-putt-putt on home‘. But I came home, anyway.
And now I’m rectifying the problem as best I can. I’ve been taking decongestants, and have a supply of cough drops at the ready for tomorrow. If that doesn’t work, I’m now equipped and prepared to duct tape my asscheeks together, to prevent any more ‘jailbreaks’. I’m reserving that for an emergency, of course. But it’s a solid ‘Plan B’.
Otherwise, maybe I’ll just call in sick for a few days and let this whole thing blow over. I would swear that when I left today, I could hear the conference room giggling at me. I can’t think of anything worse on a Monday when I’m under the weather.
Except, you know — that thing. Sheesh.Permalink | 1 Comment