Thursday, November 04, 2004
Another day, another...?
Wow. I realize that my last report indicated I’d let you all know if I survived the “trial run” over two weekends ago. And if you were an imaginative reader, you might think that in fact, I had not at all survived the “trial run” and had been devoured by a pack of seriously irked cats. Not so, my friends, not so.
Indeed, not only did everyone survive the “trial run”, Rumble, who I had expected to sulk and possibly bite me over the weekend, enjoyed the house quite a bit, and was more irked when I took him home. Predictably enough, Tobey was skittish and spent about 60% of the time in hiding. Caspar was, well, friendly as is his habit. Smudge was indomitable and enjoyed herself, exploring as much of Rob’s house as she could get into. I think the dogs were entertained to have the cats at Rob’s house, and Cooter was very polite, in that he did not really chase the cats so much as just amble up to them periodically with varying results (Tobey ran away, Caspar meowed and rubbed up against him, Rumble hissed and swatted, and Smudge capered in the most charming fashion).
Rob, himself, did not, as I had worried, explode in a fury of allergies, so that’s good news.
Much has happened over the past couple of weeks. We went for an evening quad ride in the cold and dark. It was dark, and what I would consider “cold”, but was informed was actually only “cool”. We built a fire in the woods and I drank as much rye as we brought with us to stave off the cool. And a word about the “cool” – it included snow, so don’t be all thinking I’m wussing out because it was just cool out, it was actually about –3C, with snow everywhere, and what was not snow was tricky pools of cold water disguised as snow. Luckily, when we got back to the vehicles, I passed right out. By the time we made it back to civilization, I had to pee so badly, I really thought I might actually die.
Notice how I’m not dead.
The weeks go by pretty quickly these days, what with work, and scheduling the evenings, and trying to jam everything in. Last weekend was Hallowe’en weekend, and because Hallowe’en fell on a Sunday this year, Rob had a party on the Saturday night. My coup for the evening was to keep my costume a secret. Rob had planned to go as a friar for about a month before the date, so he could grow his hair out enough to have it properly tonsured. His friend comically suggested I go as a pregnant nun, and seeing the humour in this, I did. It turned out fairly well, all things considered, although wearing the pillow in my costume for the entire evening has convinced me I’m going to have a very difficult time if I ever actually get pregnant and am forced to carry a child to term. If a very light pillow can cause the sort of discomfort I experienced, then I cannot possibly fathom how women carry actual children around inside of them without completely freaking out. Every day. All day.
This week, I have not felt all that well, unfortunately. And I’d like to say a bit about sick days, for all the employers out there, or even employees who speak with their employers. Let’s consider the following: One person is sick. They take a half-day off to try to recuperate, and miserably enough, the next morning, they are back at work. They hack and spew, and breathe germs all over the unsick people working with them, and two or three days later, you have five people sick. By then, the original sick person is so sick they can’t stand, and are wheeling themselves around the office in their chairs, the better to spread germs far and wide, and the four incidental victims of the sickness are also forced, or choose, to stay at work after taking minimal time off to moan softly into their pillows, coming in contact with even more victims. You must see where I’m going with this.
Employers MUST be forced to implement a policy whereby sick individuals are barred from the workplace. I, personally, intend to start sueing when someone sick infects me with their illness, intentionally or otherwise. And not only will I sue the sick person, I will sue the employer who has not immediately sent-home the sick individual. It’s a matter of a “safe workplace”. Contracting virulent diseases is not “safe” in my books. Especially for me, because I take an immunosupressant, which dumbs-down my immune system to keep it from attacking my colon. Now it’s all well and good for the rest of you people to catch a cold or get the ‘flu. For me, if I contract a particularly stubborn cold, or even the ‘flu, I’m at much higher risk of being hospitalized due to that cold or ‘flu spreading into my lungs, and inflaming the tissue around my heart. Not fun at all!
So be warned, if you’re sick, and you see me, try to stay away from me. In fact, if you’re sick at all, and are sniffling, coughing, hacking, wheezing or otherwise spreading airborne contaminants, please stay home for the good of the world and your own safety. Recuperate. Take the prescribed amount of time to get better. Visit your doctor, get the antibiotics necessary, or be told that it’s a virus and you’ll have to wait it out, and then stay home until you’re no longer contagious. It only makes sense for everyone involved. If you are that indispensable at work that you cannot take a sick day, you need to find another job because they’re probably overworking you, thus contributing to the likelihood you’ll get sick because you’re run down. See how everything ties together? We’re in the 21st Century here, and should be well-aware of how illness affects man-hours and productivity.
There. That’s my rant for the day, because I have a sore throat. See? Aren’t you all glad I survived the “trial run”?
Indeed, not only did everyone survive the “trial run”, Rumble, who I had expected to sulk and possibly bite me over the weekend, enjoyed the house quite a bit, and was more irked when I took him home. Predictably enough, Tobey was skittish and spent about 60% of the time in hiding. Caspar was, well, friendly as is his habit. Smudge was indomitable and enjoyed herself, exploring as much of Rob’s house as she could get into. I think the dogs were entertained to have the cats at Rob’s house, and Cooter was very polite, in that he did not really chase the cats so much as just amble up to them periodically with varying results (Tobey ran away, Caspar meowed and rubbed up against him, Rumble hissed and swatted, and Smudge capered in the most charming fashion).
Rob, himself, did not, as I had worried, explode in a fury of allergies, so that’s good news.
Much has happened over the past couple of weeks. We went for an evening quad ride in the cold and dark. It was dark, and what I would consider “cold”, but was informed was actually only “cool”. We built a fire in the woods and I drank as much rye as we brought with us to stave off the cool. And a word about the “cool” – it included snow, so don’t be all thinking I’m wussing out because it was just cool out, it was actually about –3C, with snow everywhere, and what was not snow was tricky pools of cold water disguised as snow. Luckily, when we got back to the vehicles, I passed right out. By the time we made it back to civilization, I had to pee so badly, I really thought I might actually die.
Notice how I’m not dead.
The weeks go by pretty quickly these days, what with work, and scheduling the evenings, and trying to jam everything in. Last weekend was Hallowe’en weekend, and because Hallowe’en fell on a Sunday this year, Rob had a party on the Saturday night. My coup for the evening was to keep my costume a secret. Rob had planned to go as a friar for about a month before the date, so he could grow his hair out enough to have it properly tonsured. His friend comically suggested I go as a pregnant nun, and seeing the humour in this, I did. It turned out fairly well, all things considered, although wearing the pillow in my costume for the entire evening has convinced me I’m going to have a very difficult time if I ever actually get pregnant and am forced to carry a child to term. If a very light pillow can cause the sort of discomfort I experienced, then I cannot possibly fathom how women carry actual children around inside of them without completely freaking out. Every day. All day.
This week, I have not felt all that well, unfortunately. And I’d like to say a bit about sick days, for all the employers out there, or even employees who speak with their employers. Let’s consider the following: One person is sick. They take a half-day off to try to recuperate, and miserably enough, the next morning, they are back at work. They hack and spew, and breathe germs all over the unsick people working with them, and two or three days later, you have five people sick. By then, the original sick person is so sick they can’t stand, and are wheeling themselves around the office in their chairs, the better to spread germs far and wide, and the four incidental victims of the sickness are also forced, or choose, to stay at work after taking minimal time off to moan softly into their pillows, coming in contact with even more victims. You must see where I’m going with this.
Employers MUST be forced to implement a policy whereby sick individuals are barred from the workplace. I, personally, intend to start sueing when someone sick infects me with their illness, intentionally or otherwise. And not only will I sue the sick person, I will sue the employer who has not immediately sent-home the sick individual. It’s a matter of a “safe workplace”. Contracting virulent diseases is not “safe” in my books. Especially for me, because I take an immunosupressant, which dumbs-down my immune system to keep it from attacking my colon. Now it’s all well and good for the rest of you people to catch a cold or get the ‘flu. For me, if I contract a particularly stubborn cold, or even the ‘flu, I’m at much higher risk of being hospitalized due to that cold or ‘flu spreading into my lungs, and inflaming the tissue around my heart. Not fun at all!
So be warned, if you’re sick, and you see me, try to stay away from me. In fact, if you’re sick at all, and are sniffling, coughing, hacking, wheezing or otherwise spreading airborne contaminants, please stay home for the good of the world and your own safety. Recuperate. Take the prescribed amount of time to get better. Visit your doctor, get the antibiotics necessary, or be told that it’s a virus and you’ll have to wait it out, and then stay home until you’re no longer contagious. It only makes sense for everyone involved. If you are that indispensable at work that you cannot take a sick day, you need to find another job because they’re probably overworking you, thus contributing to the likelihood you’ll get sick because you’re run down. See how everything ties together? We’re in the 21st Century here, and should be well-aware of how illness affects man-hours and productivity.
There. That’s my rant for the day, because I have a sore throat. See? Aren’t you all glad I survived the “trial run”?
