How sick is too sick to work?

Every time I call in, I am racked with feelings of guilt and of generally feeling like a weenie.

But there I was this morning, in the kitchen and it just felt like too much trouble to put my clothes on-- and not in a good way. I made the call.

Too sick is when you're coughing up small animals. Your nose has turned against you and explodes every few minutes in a cloud of ickiness. Too sick is when you're seriously entertaining the idea of calling up Ex-NotBoyfriends to demand reciprocity for past backrubs given because you're so achy you'd take relief from a gorilla if it was offered, but you wouldn't want the gorilla to catch what you have. Too sick is when the IsCats are looking at you thinking "How can she sleep that long?"

So you do what you have to do. You call in. You feel like a weenie. You imagine that they're not at all convinced that you're actually sick and that tomorrow when you go back they're going to grill you about the wild time you had out drinking martinis and shooting pool all day. The closest I got to this was the bottle of NyQuil and watching the IsCats bat little rubber ball around on the floor.

Mesmerizing.