A month later and I’m still sick. Last night marks the third night in a row that I haven’t slept soundly.
No hot water this morning. OK, not ideal but something I can handle. I’ll just skip the hot shower and call in the problem after I get to work.
I fall back asleep waiting for medicine to kick in. I awake with a start, grab my umbrella and hurry out the door.
An unrelenting deluge soaks my slacks completely through in forty degree weather on the fifteen minute walk to the bus stop. OK, now I’m pissed, which means I’m crying because all of my emotions are hardwired to my tear ducts, including anger.
I’m done with this day. I’m done with this year. I’m just done.