Sick
I'm at work and I'm sick. If I don't come in I don't get paid. So, I'm here. I should be at home in bead sweating the cold out. I don't have a fever, because I'm popping Tylenol every ten minutes. I'm buzzing on cold medicine. It isn't a good buzz. I'm staring at the screen wanting desperately to go to sleep. Why waist a sick day on being sick? I got back from lunch and I feel a little better. I have so much to do when I get home. I have to pay bills. I have to do some research for Tpro. I have to wash the sheets. I need to pick up a package  from the apartment office. I have to throw out some boxes. I need to fix my computer because it is resetting for no reason and not coming back up.
It is not easy to be me and be sick and be responsible. I can leave today at three o'clock. The walk home sounds dreadful. I should stop at the store this evening. I need a bunch of stuff. It will not happen. I will go home and collapse. I fear I may sleep straight trough to tomorrow morning when my alarm goes off. It wouldn't be the first time.
Must keep eyes open. Must keep breathing. Must ... umm. something ... it isn't important.
I want to go home and sink into clean sheets, dream of sleeping so I'm enjoying two sleeps. I'll snore with a smile on my face. ahhhhh.