Staying home from work sick provides one with two more conditions that directly oppose getting well: the imminent buildup of work that awaits you when you get back on your feet, and an acute case of restlessness. Daytime TV is the devil: soaps and talk shows will eventually rot your brain, I am sure of it.
So here I am, waiting for my fiancee to arrive home with the NyQuil that will not only make all the icky, snotty, achy feelings dissipate, but will also knock me flat on my face so that I can actually sleep. In the meantime I am drinking tea with honey and praying for a miracle - my recital is tomorrow night and the last thing anyone wants to see is a belly dancer being overcome by a coughing fit onstage. SO not hot.
