I don't want to have a sick day.

I don't want to be stuck in the house. I don't want to have this cough and sniffles. I don't want to do any more laundry or match any more socks. I don't want to take out the dog on his every little whim. I don't want to put away dishes or iron shirts or wach Martha or What Not To Wear. I am sick of this whole sick-day business. And while I'm complaining, let me just say that I am very sore from the bevy of squats I did in Total Toning yesterday.

Last night I thought it was a good idea: I'd sleep in, I'd do some chores, I'd sit around in my pajamas with soup and Netflix. It went OK at first, but by 10 am I was grumpy and restless. When Brian said, "I wish I could stay home with you," I thought "Absolutely not! There's no way either of us would be happy after an hour of my grumpiness!" Fortunately he was soon safely on his way to Redmond, and Buster forgets I've just yelled at him within moments.

Update! I decided to put on pants and very big sunglasses and drag my unwanted clothes (from consolidating to make way for fancy new dresser), to the new Crossroads on the Ave. Unshowered and coughing, I was in little shape for public appearances, but I'd heard many good things about used designer bags from the greek system and other fabulous cheapo merch.

I found a J Crew skirt ($11), Ted Baker sandals ($15), and a springy little Hermes tote ($22). Even if the store was 99% fading, cheapo, or boring, these few little finds took only a third of the credit I got when the buyers took nearly everything in my giant bag -- 22 items sold, only 3 teeshirts to take home.

After the little outing, I am OK with pajamas and Netflix.