"Sick Days"

On Friday, I drove 480 miles to Jacksonville. On Saturday, I drove 480 miles back up to Wake Forest. That's 960 miles for all of you who lack basic addition skills.

Of course on the way back on Saturday, I started to feel a nagging little 'ugh' in the back of my throat. That is always how really bad colds begin for me.

... Add to that, I drove through a hurricane in South Carolina. Seriously, I have never driven through such terrible weather in my life. I was the only car that didn't pull off the road. There was hail, people. Hail! I had white knuckles, but I wanted to get home and I had to be at work in 9 hours.

So, just to run the tally for you:

* 1000 miles in 36 hours.

* Hail.

* Fresh cold.

All of this has culminated in a work day that is... interesting... to say the least.

My favorite senior citizen, who I'll just call 'Miss Daisy,' needs a caregiver every day. On Sundays I am her only option. So on the Sundays that I'm sick, "sick days" take a different meaning.

Miss Daisy wants to sleep an extra half hour. No problem. See ya when I see ya.

Then I get her up (45 minutes later). What's that, Miss Daisy? You don't want to brush your teeth today? Fine by me.

Miss Daisy doesn't get a ham and cheddar omelette, or belgian waffle today. No, no. Today, Miss Daisy, you get freezer pancakes.

Oh, you'd like a milkshake for breakfast? Comin' right up. Who says 80-year-olds can't have milkshakes for breakfast? Not me. Not on sick days.

Wait, is that your cat on your lap? Licking the syrup off of your pancakes? Who cares? Not me. Not on sick days.

I think she loves my "sick days."