I have been sick all week with stomach flu. This has taken my week from me, and that has meant that I have been unable to respond to some comments to which I really, really want to respond.
It makes me very angry when I get sick because it almost always happens when coworkers come to work knowing they are contagious. Sometimes this happens because they are confused about our excused absence policy, and this is partly the fault of management, I'm afraid. Sometimes they're just selfish or desperate and won't or can't give up their vacation/sick days (at Whole Foods they're all the same thing) or the pay they'd miss if they stayed home.
The problem is, when people do this, come to work knowing they are ill and probably contagious, they end up stealing from me, and I end up hating them for it. 'Cause I always catch whatever they've got. Always. And it always hits me harder and longer than it hits them. And that means I lose whole days of my precious, irreplaceable, cancer-tainted life, whole days of love and potential, all down the toilet. Or in this case, into a bucket.
In Japan, I hear they make you wear gloves and a mask when you insist on going out in public contagiously ill. I think that's entirely reasonable. I don't think it marginalizes sick people; I think it allows them to do whatever they feel they have to do without stealing life from other people. You (disease-carrying teammates who refuse to stay home) have your agenda (not losing pay or vacation days), management has its agenda (not having staffing crises), and the customers and I have ours (not catching your crud). I do think the glove-and-mask thing answers everybody's needs.
Do I sound a little, oh, tyrannical here? Tough. I just spent three days, two and a half of which were actually rain-free, with a fever over a hundred degrees, unable to walk, hop or raise my arm due to extreme, axe-quality, joint pain, unable to stay awake for more than 45 minutes at a time, unable even to crochet. It took me over 48 hours to watch two Netflixed Krzysztof Kieslowski movies because I kept falling asleep (and no, it wasn't the movies, which were Blind Chance and Camera Buff.) Oh, and my boyfriend might get this, too. So, yeah, I'm cranky.
The good news is that it's sunny again today, and I'm going to work in a little while, where I shall quite possibly continue to feel inspired to share my views with people who don't want to hear them but who will most probably not be able to shut me up. The other good news -- and I mention this only because it's Friday, and that's as good an excuse as any for cat-blogging -- is that being sick means I got to spend extra time with my little friend, here, the recalcitrant pillow thief.
To extremely loosely paraphrase a well-known quote: He who steals my pillow takes nothing I would not freely give. But he who steals my days in the sun goes right onto my hate list, no turning back.
Little kitties never get on my hate list.
Love sleeping with kitties. I sleep with Nero, constantly. He has a special turkey noise he makes when we're going to bed, it's sweet.
Mike was sick as hell over here last weekend, a head cold caught from coworkers. It was an awesome birthday for him, thanks coworkers.
We feel for you!
Posted by: Melissa | June 16, 2006 at 10:47 PM
Poor Mike! How infuriating.
Yes, having napping companions has been one of the best parts of having cats for me. Notice, though, how completely little Furry Lewis has taken over the pillow, leaving me flat and slug-like off to the side of his cozy little nest. Heh heh -- he's not the first, but he probably will be the last.
The most cats I ever had at one time was four. While I slept, every once in awhile they would all be not just on the bed but on me. I would have one on my feet, one on my backside, one curled up under the covers next to my tummy, and one snuggled into my neck on the pillow or next to it. That was heaven, that or any combination of all the kitties and my true love with me on one piece of furniture.
Posted by: Sara | June 20, 2006 at 09:52 AM