Despite the prednisone and the ample time off (Friday AND Monday), I am still struggling with not feeling well. But I can't sit around doing nothing forever. So I decide to go back to the idea of working my commitments just until I am well enough to be back full tilt. My voice is still two octaves too low, but at least I have a voice. With the medicine, I seem to have energy, so time to get back to work.
I find 400 emails awaiting, a dozen voice mail messages, and a few items slipped under my door needing my attention. Fortunately, no one dies if the librarian takes some time before responding. One of the benes of this career path.
In the back of my mind, I think that if the morning goes well and I am not greatly affected, I will stay longer. But by the time my morning Circ Desk time is over, I am barely able to manage the 11 o'clock meeting before I collapse. I definitely need to rest up. I drive home and sit in the big blue chair, my feet up, sipping hot tea.
I think about the dishes that should be put away from the dishwasher before I can reload with the dirty ones that are stacked everywhere in the sink, on the counters, on the stove top, in the living room. I ignore them and shut my eyes, pretending that someone else will be coming to vacuum the rug and scrub the bathroom sink.
Half day is enough. Maybe tomorrow will be better.
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