I HATE taking sick days. The difference between a job you hate and a job you love is the difference between "Hmm, I feel a sneeze coming on...better call in!" and "SICK? I CAN BE SICK WHEN I'M DEAD!" Since I love my job dearly, a whole day wasted lying around whimpering when I could be drawing Nurk at the Gate of Fish or something is just galling.
However, I had some kind of allergy attack yesterday, which I largely ignored because I was hammering away on the demon rat painting, and then once I pulled out of my painting fugue, I turned out to be out of Allegra, so there was no chance of halting it. My nostrils are dry and sore, and my skull aches, which is fairly standard. I could probably work through that. I USUALLY work through that. This time, however, I acquired an absolutely dire sore throat to go with it, the back of my throat feels like a sponge that's been scraped raw and then run over by a truck, and that's a deal breaker.
While I'm fairly sure it's allergies, ever since James's Lyme disease (which he is recovering nicely from, and the yogurt* is clearing up most of the side-effects of antibiotics) I'm suffering the mild hypochrondria of someone who just witnessed a Weird Disease, and neurotically wondering if I have what James calls Rocky Nile Spotted Hanta Testicular Virus. (My attempts to point out that I lacked at least one vital component needed for this ailment was foiled when James claimed that it would cause me to grow a pair, which would then fall off, or possibly explode.) But hopefully it's just the usual.
Meanwhile, back to bed!
*My father suggested that a much more fun way to replace yeasts and bacterias is with beer. James quite liked this idea.