I think I am a good person. Really. Most of the time.
So I've been sick all week. Really sick. Hacking cough, fever, congestion, hacking cough . . . did I mention hacking cough? My chest is sore from the effort, and my throat is raw.
Today was supposed to be a special day. Its a Friday. A paid holiday. A day off from work, without a day off from pay check. Normally, its extra special too, because its the day my housekeeper comes. Nothing like coming home to crisp clean sheets, sparkly toilets, and stuff, none of which you had to do.
I think I woke up in hell.
Oh, its Friday. And the sun is shining. But I'm still in bed with said hacking cough. ON MY DAY OFF.
To add insult to injury?
My housekeeper has officially quarantined my house until next Friday. No laundry. No freshly made beds. No clean sparkly toilets, unless I do them myself.
Apparently that "I'm old, can't risk getting sick, can't risk getting my husband sick, I'm the only wage-earner" thing kicked in . . . and she doesn't want to risk getting what I have.
Apparently you can pay 'the man' for most things, but not when viruses are involved.
Excuse me while I go set up for my pity party. If I don't hack up a lung first.