I’m mighty thankful for sick days

11/365:Out Sick (Photo credit: chauromano)

Yes indeed…I’ve worked jobs where I had to go in when I was sick if I wanted to get paid.  And the thing about those jobs is you never make enough money to save anything so you always have to go in even if you are sick.   So I’m pretty grateful to have a job with paid sick time.

I guess you’ve probably figured it out…I took a sick day today.  I had the alarm set for 6 am, slept fitfully all night, decided to get out of bed a little after 5:30.  I was getting ready for work when I decided I wasn’t going to be able to go in and be very productive with the way I was feeling…upset stomach, bad headache.  So I called (someone was supposed to be there at 5 am) and let the phone ring for a long, long time with no answer…hmm…what does that mean?  I didn’t want to call Chris on his cell in case he’d decided to come in later and was still sleeping (I’m thoughtful like that).  Called a little later and, lo and behold, got an answer.

After I got off the phone, I went upstairs to take out my contacts, looked at the bed, and climbed back in.  Ahh…slept for a couple of hours.  Nice.  Still felt a little off all day, but at least I have a job where I can stay home and try to get to feeling better…and not have to worry about the next paycheck.

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Time to move on once again

A Crane for Each Child; Students Seek End to Child Abuse (Photo credit: ct senatedems)

I’ve decided it’s time to leave little Sean lying on his bed, trying to recover from the emotional and physical abuse he’s endured.  That  was a tough little series to write.  I really can’t understand child abuse.  I get that people who abuse have usually suffered abuse themselves…I get it, really I do.

What I don’t get is what is going on in an abuser’s mind that tells them that what they’re doing is okay?  I know that people who are a lot smarter than I am have given this issue a lot of thought over the years.  And that they don’t really have any more answers than I do…but I can’t help but question this.  And…then I find myself questioning why I’m writing about it…I think I just had to tell the tale.

So, in leaving little Sean behind for now, where do I go next?  There are stories begging to be told…stories from a hundred years ago, or fifty years ago, or ten years ago, or yesterday, or even stories from the future.  I guess we’ll have to wait and see which one comes out on top tomorrow.