sick day.

this is the first time that i've called in sick to work at the new job. it's not actually a new job anymore; i started there about 6 months ago. to me, all that means is that i have 6 more months to clock before i have any vacation time. don't get me wrong--i do like my job--but there are some days when i come home defeated and frustrated, not wanting to go back the next day, and will scour the internets for CST job postings across the country. but today, i really am sick. i have felt yucky all weekend, and i'm taking today off.

so, i just wanted to share how my morning has gone.

3:30 am: coughing up a storm, wide awake, miserable. retreat to bedroom so as not to wake greg. (we were sleeping on the couch.)
4:00 am: still coughy, throat sore. called into work.
4:30 am: trying to fall back asleep. took empty red robin cup and hacked up some loogies inside of it.
6:00 am: alarm goes off. turned it off. back to sleep.
6:30-ish am: greg comes in, asks if i'm getting up, i say no. back to sleep.
xx:xx am: BOOOOOOM THUNDER WAKE UP

shortly after getting up, i turned around and saw one of those motherfucking million-legged bastards on the wall, not far from where i had been resting my sick head.

thought process: that moment when you see the bastard, and are afraid to look away to grab something with which to smash it against the wall, but you do anyway, and return, only to find it's on the move, and you should've been faster. then it stops, and you're standing in your dirty flip-flops on your bed, and staring the fucker down, yet frozen and unable to make the move, and then it takes off again, higher and higher up the wall, so you have no choice but to grab the swiffer pole. transfer the paper towel to the bottom of the swiffer, and stake out the creeper, and SWAT--you missed, but you put a small nick in the wall, anyway. OH OF COURSE IT JUST CRAWLED INTO THE CRACK IN THE WALL. maybe it will return, AND it does, and you're ready to get it now, and you wait for it to get in juuuust the right spot on the wall, and SMACK, you got it this time!

or did you? it's not smashed on the wall, and you look at the bottom of the swiffer and it's. not. there. either. and you panic and start swiffering the floor around you, wondering where its tiny carcass has gone, and you can't find it! surely you smashed the life out of the little bastard! but where is it? shit. shit. shit.

leave the swiffer pole, armed and ready to attack if it returns, but it probably won't come out again, until it's ready to crawl all over your face while you sleep.