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Wednesday, July 28, 2010

There's no point in cutting into your vacation time if you vomit on yourself at work and it's 3 PM.

WARNING!  Today's blog is a little gross.  If you have a strong gag reflex or a weak stomach...DO NOT READ!  However, if you have an overdeveloped sense of schadenfreude, and you LOVE to see other people suffer, read on, and enjoy!








Like most Americans, I don't like using my vacation time for something that's not fun.  Which means, like most Americans, I go to work when I'm not feeling, shall we say, my very perkiest.

I could tell you stories about vomiting at work, in fact, the rough draft of this blog was all about the times I've barfed at work and then gone home.  But those instances are the behavior of a normal person.  I took protecting my vacation time (I have enough saved right now to take of December if I want to.  But, since I'm a control freak at work and since Bossman doesn't like covering for me for more than an afternoon, I probably won't.) to a whole new and disturbing level yesterday.




I've been battling the after effects of some weird summer cold for the last several weeks.  What started as a sore throat developed into laryngitis and then a chest cold and is now dying down as a giant flem wad in my throat.  Said flem wad gives me coughing fits a couple of times a day.  Painful, (I've pulled all my back muscles from the coughing) but certainly not a reason to take vacation time.

Yesterday I was on the phone with a customer.  I took a drink of water, and a tiny drop went down the wrong pipe.  I started coughing a little, you know how that goes.   Now add the Evil Flemwad to the mix.  I started coughing uncontrollably.  Fortunately for me, my customer didn't want to continue the conversation with a coughing beast.

Free of the phone, my coughing fit took on a whole new energy and soon I had a little verp in my mouth.  (You know what verp is...vomit burp.  Come on, I'm not the only one who knows that term.)  Well, I have two things in my office for which I'm thankful:  1)  Caller ID so I can screen my calls and ignore the ones I know are going to be annoying and 2)  A really great, completely trustworthy Dora the Explorer wastebasket.

I let fly into the basket.  Now, once you're done barking, you know how ever orifice on your head is running some sort of fluid?  Yeah, snot, tears, some earwax I think...anyway, I was so fluidy that I couldn't breath which led to gagging which lead to ...you know.  This time, blinded by tears, I couldn't reach for the basket fast enough.

Have you ever tried catching vomit in your hands, only you know there's way too much and your hands aren't going to actually hold it all?

Well, this second bout passed only now I'm sort of covered in the acidy remnants of lunch.  This is when I make it down to the bathroom.  (The third thing I'm thankful for?  A completely empty third floor.  Makes it so much less humiliating to carry a Dora the Explorer basket full of upchuck to the bathroom .)  Once in the bathroom, another coughing fit hit me.  I'm smart enough to know that you don't kneel before the toilet in this bathroom.  The cleaning lady believes that if she pours the bowl cleaner into the bowl, but doesn't actually touch the toilet with a brush or some sort of scrubber, the toilet is still clean.  So the sink got the glory this time. 

Fun Fact:  Apparently tomatoes, when on a veggie sub sandwhich, take more than three hours to completely digest.

Another fun fact:  Trying to ease a vomit inducing cough with a Halls throat lozenge does not ease the cough.  It just makes your already burning throat feel more en fuego.

Back at my office, cleaned up, (though really, can you truly get vomit off your clothes without the use of a washing machine?)  and exhausted, I toyed with the idea of going home early.  Then I looked at the clock.  It was three PM.  Quitting time is at 4. 

Not really worth cutting into my saved vacation time.

Right?



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