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January 30, 2001
a year ago
two years ago
three years ago

Not Good For Myself

I am not taking very good care of myself. I don't really know why, even. Cera asked me some good questions that really got me to stop and think.

I didn't sleep at all well last night, and some part of my brain wanted to just go home at noon, but then John started asking me questions about whether or not I was going to go home for lunch. I saw that he was trying to decide if he had to put the hospital bags into the car depending on my answer, so I got confused and gave up and just said that I didn't know and that might as well just stay at work. I think that some of it was a mistaken feeling that I had some things that I really had to get done.

Which was a mistake, now that I look back on it. I didn't get anything much done and I felt awful.

I was miserable most of the morning. It was made worse by finding out that Facilities had thrown out my ice packs over the weekend, in their fanatic desire to completely clean out the company refrigerators, they'd tossed *everything*. I got really upset, wrote the guy that was in charge of that a very scathing letter, saying it was really stupid that they'd thrown out something non-perishable, took only a little space, and was something that I only used for work, so it was really stupid to have to bring it home every weekend. It was a few hours of feeling really bad until the facilities guy in charge apologized to me and told me that they'd reimburse me for any replacement packs.

By then I'd eaten my pot pie, felt a bit better with some liquids inside me and gone on-line to just talk with people. I should remember that just complaining about something isn't any way to solve the problem. But I didn't remember it then, and just complained about how awful I felt. Should have taken Cera's advice to just go home, but was a bit stubborn and still a bit emotionally hung up on work and what I 'should' be doing.

By the time John came by to drive me home, I was feeling sick. Throat was tickly, nose was runny, and I was coughing on the way home. Oops. He was good after just one bit of self-recrimination he pulled together dinner, got me well fed, well watered, and shooed me off to bed. At 7:30. I went without a protest and went to sleep, getting up fairly frequently from snoring with the cold mucus plus the regular mucus and stuff. John was very good and very smart and went to sleep upstairs.

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