It seems I only write when there’s death
So my week’s gone like this:
- Monday: Jury Duty. Didn’t feel awesome, really tired, and my nagging cough that I’d put down to being in a new place that was really, really old was just getting worse. Assumed I’d been doing too much, as we all know that “Overcommitted” is my middle name.
- Tuesday: Mini-Snowpocalypse. Didn’t feel AWESOME, but got to stay home because my boss(es) are not interested in making me drive when it’s snowing/icing/slushy. Attempted to take it easy while working from home.
- Wednesday: Felt better, as in less tired, but the cough was by this time completely disgusting. Thomas politely harangued me until I went to the doctor’s walk-in hour, where in I got a chest x-ray, and was told “You don’t have pneumonia!” Turns out I do have bronchitis. I feel remarkably good for all that, so I get my meds and go into work, where I get a call from my mom – here sister, my aunt, has died. I stick it out til 4pm at work, by which time it’s clear I should have worked from home.
- Today I’m working from home, and I’m dealing with my mom over my aunt’s death.
One hopes Friday brings some respiratory improvement, because the funeral is on Saturday, and I need to be well enough to go. Ugh. You may recall this entry; of course the fall out from that weird situation is totally in swing, and it’s going to be a while before my mom is comfortable regretting she didn’t have a better relationship with her sister versus feeling responsible for it.
But seriously, universe? Bronchitis and a funeral in the same week? Really?
