Last week, we put on a big conference and brought in all the real people from the field who do all the work. As part organizer, volunteer, and presenter, I also had to re-vamp our Best Practices. Or as I call it, The Bible, Also With Terrible Things In It. Since I stressed and put off writing this document until the night before, I killed my immune system. Luckily, I have a fantastic person at work who was understanding of my trauma via email exchanges.
6:51pm
Me: Stackhouse is going to bring me Wendy’s. I already have diarrhea so I might as well go for a caramel shake.
Co-Worker: Haha!!! Yum! Good thing you have the bathroom all to yerself.
8:26pm
Me: I am in hell.
CW: Yeah? Well, I’m covered in baby barf and just found out that boy wet the bed last night and doesn’t have clean sheets.
Me: I have diarrhea and strep throat and probably Mr. Higgins but you sort of win.
CW: Did I mention the dog pee?
10:02pm
Me: Still here. Still pooing. Throat sore. Do you Vitamin C? (Editor’s Note: Clearly Vitamin C is like a dance move).
CW: Want me to bring some airborne in the morning?
Me: If you have it on hand.
CW: You need to get on outta there!
Me: Not even close.
CW: Airborne is in my big red bag. Want me to bring coffee in the a.m.?
Me: Just bring me fresh underwear.
(I posted this around 11:30 on FaceBook: “I’m still at work because ima professional procrastinator. I will have to be here at least 14 hours. I also have diarrhea. Somebody help me. Bring sweatpants.” Fortunately, several work people saw this post and were commenting on it the next day. This was terrific justification for not being at the 7am meeting registration. Unfortunately, they were talking about my butt hole, really.)
1:40am
I am dead. In hell, everything smells like hot printers. If you have any Imodium D, I would appreciate it and so would my pants.
