Now wouldn’t that be cool if that actually happened?

Shup, Sandy.  And Lacey.  And Mattie.  And Riete.  And… well, EVERYBODY!!

One month into the brand spanking new year, fresh with 5 sick/personal work days anew, and I have burned three already.  Boss, I really really tried to make it in yesterday.  I did.  Head burning with a cruel migraine haze, I dragged myself out of bed with plenty of time to get ready for work.  Showered.  Put on most of my clothes.  Went downstairs, pulled my shoes from the shoe rack, sat down on the couch to put them on. 

Do not puke.  Do not.  I moaned like a whimpering dog as I said those words out loud. 

Coffee will take care of this.  Just make yourself get out the door.  Thing was that there was no way I was going to be able to stand long enough to grind the coffee beans and start a pot brewing.  I moaned again, even thinking made me feel ill.

I’m pretty sure it was one of the worst migraines I have experienced.  I laid back, aware that I could close my eyes for another five minutes and still make it to work with time to spare.  One thing that kept me from doing that was the growing sensation in my gut, telling me that the inevitable was about to occur.  I stumbled upstairs to our bathroom, where the inevitable did indeed occur.  Yellow bile telling me that indeed this was a migraine, probably stress induced from yet again another problem with the family van the night before, an evening where I had superdadman again (successfully).

No way was I going to make it to work.  I rinsed my mouth out, returned to the bedroom, slid into bed, pulled the covers over my face to reduce the evil light that was adding to the pain.

Oops.  Call your supervisor, Steve.  Do it now before you go to sleep.  I dialed the phone and got his voice mail.  He had taken Friday off of work.  Oh crap, now I have to find someone to talk to in the building so they know I am taking a personal day.  My only real choice was my supervisor’s boss, my boss, and I hate talking to him.  He likely was not in his office, anyway.

My cell phone rang from its perch on my nightstand, rousing me from the deep sleep that was rescuing me from my headache.  I rolled over — to see a clock that announced that is was 11:30 AM.

“You coming in, Steve?”  The tone was not sympathetic, my new boss, not my supervisor, a kid who is not exactly the most… ummm… let’s just say he will never be someone I will confide in.  “I see you called your supervisor at 8, but you didn’t leave a message.  You taking a personal day?”

“Is it 11:30?”


“I have a migraine.  Definitely taking a personal day.  Sorry.”

“Next time make sure you talk to someone before 9.”  Click.

Ain’t looking forward to Monday.