Amy was ready to return to work yesterday morning. I woke briefly as she rose from the bed and walked to the bathroom. As I was drifting back into dreamland, her voice punctuated my haze, "Can you come look at my eye?" I sat up, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and stumbled after her. When I opened the door, the light was bright and it took a few minutes before I was able to open my eyes without pain. Once I did, I got a gander at her eye. It was red, swollen, and covered with the slimy kludge that screams Pink Eye!
So after being down for four days with the flu, she starts to feel better and the virus escapes into her eye. At least that was the doctor's prognosis. I imagine her body has been playing host to a lot of malignant foreign organisms of the infectious kind and their froth finally bubbled over onto the table. Or so to speak. She spent yesterday at home, sapping more of her sick time for the year. She did go back to work today but the damage is done in terms of benefits lost.
If you ring the doorbell, I will probably answer it while wearing couch cushions and a colander as a makeshift suit of armor. Perhaps I will also carry a plunger as an extra measure of defense against the unseen soup of nasties. Please understand that I am not insane. Most definitely not. Oh no.
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