Sickypoo, Part Two

Didn't get a tremendously good sleep last night, but as I was the only one in my department that wasn't scheduled for vacation, I showed up to work. Within the first hour, I disabled a yellow jacket that had somehow landed in my office window, had a panic attack, and went through a pack of tissues. 

I got through about half a workday, then was graciously given a half day's worth of sick pay, and I hightailed it to Kroger for some store-brand NyQuil. Whilst checking out, the lady at the self check-out wished me a "feel better." (In related news: living in the South is great because people are genuinely sweet.)

1.5 NyQuil comas later, I'm feeling moderately okay and ready to eat some turkey tomorrow.

So it wasn't exactly like Kathleen Kelly in You've Got Mail, but David did bring me soup and hot tea, and also PUDDING.

I'm about one NyQuil coma away from a fantastic Thanksgiving, you guys.

(And I'd also write a lot better if I wasn't so cold-and-flu-headed.)