I've Taken a Sickie

I pulled a sickie. Oh, I just couldn't face it today, nah. I know when I'm going to stay home, it always starts the same way. I'd have a shower, make coffee, pour milk over my muesli and was in my room getting my clothes together. As I am bending down to get my socks, thinking about the things I have to do, you know, in the office, ho fucken hum, invariably feeling bored at the thought of it all, a whisper pushes it's way in and says softly, you could stay home. Just like that, out of no where, like an autoimmune response. And I think no, be gone thought! Ahhh! But it’s left its mark, a stain on an otherwise normal morning. I wrestle with it, push on trying to squash it down, get dressed, with that pesky whisper floating through my brain the whole time, tapping at the inside of my skull. And when I'm ready, all done, just gotta leave the house, nothing else to do - tippy-toes on the edge of the cliff - I faulter, as I kind of know I will, it wins, succeeds, gets its way. I decided, no, I'm not going. Then there is the trade off - I'll go for a bike ride, I'll go see my mum, I'll do all the things I need to get done, but haven't. I know I won’t. But, I've done my tax this week, registered my bank details with Medicare, cleaned up my study and have fixed the leak in the roof, so I have crossed things off my list already. That must count for something?

I know, it's a bit much when I'm only working three days a week, but I have plenty of sick leave, so what the fuck. And, I never take sick days, well hardly ever, not often. I always feel guilty right about now, though, stupid work ethic. The "I should have gones" ring resoundingly in my head. It usually takes an hour, or so, past 9am before I can relax and settle into it. Up until then, I still have the getting to work anxiety of the morning. It takes a while for it to wash away, squash down, dissolve.

We should all be able to take the odd day for ourselves, it's good for us, I reckon. Or does our now more conservative moral code prevent us any longer? Well, not me. Clearly.

Really, we're all such social conformists now – the rebellious streak has been killed off in us, or is being killed off by politicians, who are so affected by their ties with business. Keep them beige they are easier to mould as industry fodder that way. Keep them working so they can't think, keep them working so they can consume more and more stuff, whether they need it or not.

Now, I've just got to make sure I don't get a migraine, my usual excuse if ever I do take a sickie. If I'm not careful I end up with one, it must be because I put it in my head, no pun intended. Is that karma? It's a good thing I don't believe in it, hey? And if I could get my writing mojo back, that would be excellent and the day wouldn't be wasted.

I know I'm going to waste it.

But now, it must be time for another coffee.