Spitting Out Body Parts, Part 2

So now I am sick.



Fortunately, THIS is just a nasty cold or something--I'm not congested or sneezing or anything, but I have a pretty good fever--and every time I take a deep breath I start coughing. It's like my airway seems to be annoyed...much like the rest of me.



This is what I get for eating his dinner, I guess. Because this morning, after coming home at 10 AM from wherever he was last night (the man never learns!), he came into the bedroom at 11:00 to let me know that he and his buddy were leaving.



"You that tired?" he said, when I failed to budge.



"Nah--I'm sick," I told him.



"Oh," he said. He paused for a moment to ponder. "You mean like, 'stay-away-from-me' sick?"



This is where thinking on my feet would be a really good trait to have--I feel like George Costanza. Because there were two perfectly good retorts here, neither of which I used:



1.) "No--as in 'be exceptionally nice to me and coddle me just a little bit' sick. Is that a kind of sick with which you're familiar, buttmunch??"



or



2.) "Oh, you mean there's a way you could actually manage to stay MORE away from me?"



This is where the whole machismo bit starts to wear a wee bit thin, boys and girls.



And yes, I'm feeling neglected and un-adored, but the main reason I'm cranky right now has nothing at all to do with LJ:



There's no way I could call off work tomorrow. Even if I felt like ass on a plate, I still have to go in, 100+-degree fever and all. And I can't begin to tell you how much I think that blows.