My husband is mad at me.
I came down with bacterial bronchitis last week, a nasty bout of lung crud that has kept me in bed for the last four days. Because I went to the doctor on Friday and got antibiotics I figured scheduling work the following Tuesday and Wednesday would be no problem.
It’s Sunday night, and I’m still flat on my back. I cough and my lungs rattle like I’ve been a chain smoker all my life. Colds never settle in my lungs, my sinuses excel in that department; so what’s up with this horrible malaise?
I made it past all the holiday colds and flus when people were dropping all around me; but one day in Disneyland and now I’m toast. Ugh.
So tomorrow morning I eat humble pie and call my trusted clients and explain nicely that, oops, I’m still sick, sorry for the short notice but please find someone else.
My husband is happy now that I’ve acquiesced to his request to cancel all work until I’m better, but I’m a little stir crazy being housebound with no end in sight. However, the dogs love being on the couch with me all day, they think I’m one of them now.
There will be a happy ending to this story once my immune systems returns from vacation. Until then I’m dozing, drinking plenty of fluids, and dreaming of returning to work. And if anyone calls to book jobs this week I’ll be a good wife and just say, “Sorry, I’m sick.”