It’s Not Funny: An Apology of Sorts…

3 blog posts in 2 days? This girl’s on a roll! A toilet roll that is… I’ll explain in a bit, but first…

I apologise for the lack of hilarity in the last two posts, I tried to make them funny but just couldn’t. I figured sometimes life isn’t funny but that doesn’t mean it’s not still good. I’m not convinced I believe that… I’m the kind of person who laughs at everything, even when it’s not appropriate. Heck, especially when it’s not appropriate! As a teacher I spend many formal assemblies biting my lip to keep from laughing at some hilarious pronunciation (like free firty instead of three thirty) or unintended innuendo.

Most people would consider this kind of behaviour immature, I agree. I can however do nothing to stop it. I crack up when my local store abbreviates the word assorted and tries to sell, “ass cupcakes”…

Or a local business owner is the victim of witty vandals who turn his business into one offering “fibre ass repairs”…

That said, I do apologise for the unfunniness of the two previous posts and can only offer the reason for this post as some form of explanation or excuse.

I said earlier I’ve been on a roll, a toilet roll… Well, little did I know that my ridiculously pathetic immune system would help me shrink The List.

Being the overachiever that I am, I have not spent A day in my pyjamas… Oh no, not one, not two, but THREE long days spent in fluffy pink pjs! About three weeks ago, a splitting headache and dodgy cough sent me to my local MD. A ridiculous amount of money and a long wait at the pharmacy later I had an antibiotic set to cause the offending bug to cease and desist.

The white flag went up about 24 hours later but on closer inspection it proved to be a decoy. The white flag was just some old long johns and Mr Bug was growing fat in spite of the supposedly killer drugs I was taking.

As a teacher, sick leave is more of an urban legend than a contractual reality in our lives. A colleague of mine recently came back from the doc with the following quote, “I told my doctor, and ‘It’s so cute how you think I can actually take sick leave’”. Well said.

So I pushed on through hours of invigilation*, endless marking, departmental (definitely mental) admin and work and finally made it to the end of term. Sick, but still standing.

*For those who aren’t teachers… The reality of invigilating exams… Check watch… 11:41. Walk around class 7 times, 3 of which you pretend to be on a tightrope… Count all blondes, brunettes and redheads, twice… Count all left handed learners… Hand an extra sheet of paper to four different learners, whether they need it or not… Read graffiti on three different desks, look confused because you don’t understand one, blush because you do understand the other two but wish you didn’t…. Stare down the pigeon sitting on the window ledge, feel proud because it blinked first… amble slowly back to the desk to check the time, feel excited at your constructive use of what must be at least 35 minutes… Check the time again… 11:43…

So three weeks after the original doctor’s appointment I admitted defeat and dragged myself back to the doctor’s office. A stern lecture and a large amount of money later, I was armed with superstrength-nothing-will-survive-these-suckers antibiotics and painkillers. And the doctor’s orders included a strict three days in bed clause.

When I wrote the list originally, I imagined my day in my pjs would be spent ironing my hair, watching DVDs and chatting with friends.

Instead, I have spent three long days up to my elbows in snotty tissues and trying desperately not to cough up a lung. Dreadfully inelegant. Sorry, is snot a politically correct term or should that rather read mucous?

I have spent the last three days averting my eyes from all mirrors in an effort to avoid the Sarah Sick Face. Not pretty. Since all meals are eaten in bed, Sick Sarah is a crumb laced, snot faced, messy haired creature.

That hacking cough and inelegant sniff are unwelcome at even the most ill-mannered of tables.

Today is day three. In about 2 hours and 45 minutes I plan to vacate the bum shaped hollow in my bed, shower, wash my hair and join the ranks of the well. The doc said three days. Time’s up. I will take yet another dose of those ginormous pills that he prescribed and some extra painkillers, change out of my pyjamas and face the world, not as Sick Sarah, but rather as Almost Well Sarah, a brighter version of her former self.

Maybe I’ll even feel well enough to do some more damage to The List! What do you think I should do next?

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