Walking Disease

I opened the door, winced to find the room full of people and turned to grab another chair.

"Katie?" someone called, following me out of the small conference room and indicating there was an empty chair for me. I smiled weakly when my germophobic colleague hurriedly pushed the empty chair to the point as far away from him as possible. Given that I continue to feel like a walking disease, I didn't comment.

"I almost put you in the other room," he told me quietly when I sat quietly in the corner as our guests were otherwise occupied. "Are you OK?"

"Alive," I told him and he took an involuntary step back to avoid catching whatever horror has infected me.

"Are you stuffy?" another colleague asked on the phone. "Sweetheart, how are you so sick?"

"I don't know," I whined, putting the back of my head to see if I was feverish. Deciding that if I was, it was very slight and nibbling on one of my saltines as I pouted. "I'm sore and my head hurts and I'm starting to cough!"

"I'm sorry," everyone on the conference call said and I nodded. They should be sorry. I'm so tired of being sick.

I stayed home yesterday, I think - I don't really remember, honestly. There may have been phone calls. There was definitely a lengthy nap. I did make progress on my Huge Project - it's deadline is Looming, but I'm pretty comfortable with the state of the presentation. I feel like I'm either working or ill - there is nothing else. I listen to television shows as I fitfully doze. I type out emails while I drink more apple juice.

I'm weary of being ill. I'm grumpy as hell - whether I yap like a terrier or growl like a bear, but I still keep losing because I get tired mid-argument. But when I start answering my boss with "Are you fucking kidding me with this?!" something probably should start to shift soon.