People think it's so sexy, working from home. Like how I don't have to get dressed every day. And how some days I don't shower until the afternoon. Sometimes I don't even brush my teeth until I've had lunch! Maybe sexy isn't the right word...
Anyway, I have now discovered the one thing that is not good about working from home and it is this: I am poorly but I still have to go to work!
I just did not see this coming; I'm never sick! Yes, I have complaints on occasion, you know: migraines, backache, a suspicious looking freckle, dry skin, oily skin, spotty skin, inconsistently coloured skin, sore feet, a deep sense of ennui, itchy elbows, excess eyebrow skin, tummy aches, stuff like that. But I just don't get sick.
In the three and a bit years that I've been in my job, I think maybe I've taken two days off work with a serious bed-binding illness and when I returned to work people agreed that I had come back too soon and that I was helping no-one. That's just the kind of guy I am!
This week, I have been sick. It started with a sore throat, and then there was all this mucus, and finally these crazy headaches that wouldn't let up even when I was sleeping. At first, I wondered if this was because I'd forgotten to buy coffee and had to exist that day purely on green tea and lovely, caffeinated Lemsip. But then I got some coffee and the headaches got even worse. In fact, that was around the time that the nausea and high temperatures fully kicked in.
I think it might have been just a bug.
Anyway, this brings me to my complaint about working from home. You kind of don't have an excuse not to turn up to the office. I mean, I have to pass it to go to the loo at the very least, and with the modern wonder that is my laptop, I could even do it from bed.
So I worked for three days with a temperature and in pain, and it wasn't the worst thing that happened. It definitely made me grumpy and a bit short with people, but that could, potentially, be mistaken for efficiency and fast decision making; it made me not give a shit about answering my emails, which meant that I actually got a lot of things done.
The worst thing, when I think about it, is that nobody even noticed. If I didn't live with my boyfriend, I would probably be having dark fantasies right now, about my neighbours eventually finding my body, eaten from the inside out by woodlice.
That reminds me, I must go feed the woodlice...
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