Today, I’m sick. I hope it’s not the feared “death cold” that I fought last fall and Bryan recently wrestled with, because honestly I just don’t have time to be that sick. I’ve decided not to go into SF today for the meetings I had lined up — damn, I really did want to go to one of those — in the interest of trying to keep others healthy and getting better. I know I can’t whine too much. I have a friend in the hospital during one of the worst winter storms in recent memory, while her newborn baby girl is safely at home under the watchful eye of family. Rolling blackouts with well-below-freezing temperatures. Not to mention the ongoing stream of terrible news from Egypt.
By comparison, the “death cold” is nothing. But it’s still no fun, let me tell you.
Anyway – what got me started on this: I’m working from bed. Working. From. Bed. Two reasons that’s amazing:
- I’m working from bed. Like, I’m in bed, but I’m doing actual useful work (well, and this blog post). It’s probably not my best work, but I’ll carefully review it all when I’m less stupid from Dayquil and feverishness. I’m still able to be productive even though I’m not full steam and safely quarantined from the general population. That’s pretty cool.
- I care so much about what I’m working on, I want to keep going when I feel like crap. It’s like the opposite of calling in sick. It’s saying “oh, don’t mind me, I’ll just keep working from here.” How awesome is that? Very.
Also awesome are the things that enable me to do this – wifi high-speed internetz, my handy-dandy MacBook Air, and my doting husband who is keeping me plied with tea. I’d prefer to be not sick if I had a choice, but under the circumstances I can hardly complain. So I’m not. Well, not much.