I hate calling in sick to work. It's especially bad now that I'm alone in my office; it means someone has to come sit over here all day. To make things even better, the secretary who usually covers for me told me today that she was glad I was back because she hates my desk. Yeah, me too. But thanks for making me feel like an inconvenient jerk.
Anyway, I started feeling pretty lousy on Tuesday. Sneezing, some congestion. By the time we were getting ready for bed, I was pretty miserable. My fabulous husband insisted I stay home. I told him "We'll see," and he said, "That means no." But whenever he tells me to stay home and I don't, I usually end up regretting it. So this time, I sent off an email to my boss before bed so that I wouldn't have to get up and call in. Adam was shocked that I actually listened, but it turns out I can be taught.
It was a good thing I stayed home; I spent most of yesterday asleep in bed or languishing on the couch. I had a mild fever according to the thermometer, but I felt like I was going to burst into flames. We knew something was wrong when I turned down the thermostat. Me! I get a blanket while we're watching TV because I get cold when the AC turns on!
But here I am at work, feeling moderately better. Mostly I had to come in to do payroll. I didn't want them to think I was secretly making a five day weekend of it, either. But hey, thanks to Pioneer Day, I'll only have worked three days this week. Less than, if you count my hour-and-a-half jaunt to the dermatologist on Monday. They kept passing me between doctors' offices, and I told them if I couldn't get in that day I would just go to urgent care. They managed to squeeze me in, which saved me ten bucks over going to urgent care, so that was nice.
Not much has been going on lately, except for my little cold. The nice thing about not being a professional blogger is that I don't have to come up with content every day, even when nothing is going on.
The original purpose of this post, though, was to show you the picture of the delicious pizza I make.
Doesn't that look tasty? That's a "small." I always try to make FH's bigger than mine, since he eats so much more than I do. Plus I need to fatten him up. So I don't look as fat.
But hey, this is way healthier than a similar quantity of Pizza Hut pizza, which is what I'd be buying if I didn't make my own. Plus this is way cheaper. And despite my best efforts to not be a poor newlywed, we rather are. So cost trumps time, for now. But one day, we'll live close to a Hungry Howie's, and then all bets are off.