Rusty iron lung

Today I am coughing like a former coal-mining, pack-a-day smoker who works weekends loading asbestos. I believe my lungs are black. If not black, they are rusty and full of holes. If I had known this was how my lungs would turn out, I wouldn't have been such a prude about taking up smoking. When I cough, my lungs seem intent on squeezing the very last molecule of air from themselves. It's horrendous.

I feel terrible about going to work the past month with an obvious respiratory infection. A gentleman I work with who must be in his seventies and is only there half days has come down with a familiar sounding cough and he ended up staying home Friday with a fever. I tell you I don't know what to do when I'm sick but there are deadlines and obvious things I must accomplish and I'm the only one who can (or will) accomplish them. I truly wish I could have stayed home but I couldn't. I did try and keep my distance and wash my hands frequently but it's not as if I have my own office or anything. I wish my boss had come to me and told me to go home because he would take care of things. He did come to me and told me that was a bad cough and I needed to get some rest and get better. Then he would turn and leave for home and I would end up staying until 7:00 p.m. because if I didn't run the processes the refunds would not be generated and then there would be unhappy, poor students. Sometimes men are so obtuse.

Today I spent the morning catching up R's work since it's the end of the month. I shut the door to my office and turned on the space heater and cooked myself. It felt good. I shouldn't have needed it since it got into the 60's today but the house is cold and I'm simply not oxygenating. This afternoon I planted myself on the couch and took a glorious nap. It felt great (well, I didn't cough anyway) until I got up to walk and then it's tuberculosis Mary all over again. Tonight R is at a basketball game and I'm still on the couch, reading and blogging. I need to get up and get some water.

Laying on the couch has made me preoccupied with two things. My fawn pug has paced the entire time I've been here around the cedar chest we use for a coffee table, and his nails definitely need a trim. Wood floors will tell that tale every time. If he would just sit down an relax I wouldn't have to feel guilty. Also, there is some glass something touching up against some other glass something and a tiny, tiny tinkle can be heard as the house endures small vibrations from the refrigerator, the pug pacing, or maybe just existing. I tried to get up and locate the source, but once the pug follows me and I begin coughing, it's impossible to find the tiny, tiny tinkle. I separated the organic peanut butter from the peach preserves in the refrigerator door, but that didn't help. I wonder if it's the small bowl in the bird's cage. I'll have to go move it to see if it helps. Plus I can get some water then.

Then I can call this a day full of accomplishments.