I hate being sick

Seriously, I don't understand how it is that I'm sick again, when I just got sick like a week after Christmas. It's not fair.

Basically the past few days I've just been walking around thinking to myself, "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die," and then when I actually make it to my destination of choice and realize I'm still alive, I'm like awesome. I think my nose is going to fall off at this point because I've blown it way too much. It looks like Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer. I just want it to stop running so I can actually taste what I eat and breathe out of it again!

I've gone to work all this week, because I have such a good work ethic. Like, when I was little, I never ever stayed home from school. Perfect Attendance award anyone? Even in highschool when I was dying of cramps, I still went to class. When I got strep throat my senior year, I was that girl carrying my books in one hand, and a box of Kleenex in the other.

Today I'm still like that, but I also realize why they give you sick days. They are meant to be used. And if I don't feel better when I wake up tomorrow morning, I am going to take a sick day. *After all, it's better than spreading whatever crap I have to someone else at work.

Whenever I get sick, I want sympathy. I want someone to take care of me and check up on me. My mom hasn't been the best example of that. I told her how I felt like crap and she said I need to take some more medicine and then I'll be fine. No offer of soup, or anything. But thankfully, I have great friends. Friends that give me that sympathy and actually want me to get better. It's pretty awesome. 

I hope you don't get sick by reading this--I know pretty much everything is viral these days, but I don't think germs are. Yet.

*I gave it to my little brother. He's sick at home today. My bad?