Still feel sick. With the cold that Grace had. Along with most of the neighborhood and half my customers. At one point today, I thought I was going to fall of my chair at work and after messaging my team leader was ushered into the sick bay for a lie down. I took off my boots, lay under the blanket and put my head on the pillow and listened to the sounds of the taps turning on in the men's staff toilets (thankfully that was all I could hear) and wondered who else had laid their head on this pillow and whether anyone would think to wash my poxy germs off at some point. I drifted into semi sleep while the panadol took effect and my breathing settled. It was very strange to come to half an hour later with the sounds of the back office (there is a staff only area with the lunch room, toilets, sick bay and a training room) around me. I got up and had lunch and decided to press on. Mostly because the thought of going home at a different time than usual seemed like just far too much effort. And a half day off is a waste of one of my precious days without evidence (we get up to 20 days personal leave a year but only five without evidence).
As it happened, I had made quite a big and stupid mistake at work this morning. Probably because my brain was not working and there was a bit of a queue. I booked someone a new claim appointment they didn't need instead of just restoring their payment. The annoying thing was that a) I'd rung another area to to check what to do and had been given incomplete advice and b) not used an interpreter when I should have. I'm slapping myself about that because I'm always saying that we need to be more mindful of using interpreters. So, I spent a good part of the afternoon, in between other tasks (including making sure I have no outstanding work for tomorrow), fixing the mistake. And surprisingly when I rang the customer, with an interpreter this time, to let her know that said mistake had been fixed and to apologise, she was amazingly gracious about it. Which kind of made my day. Later at home when we debriefed over dinner, G pointed out that falling off a hobby horse can be a long, hard fall. Indeed. I shall try better next time.
Anyway, iIf I still feel craptastic tomorrow, I'll stay home and read novels. And sleep. Which is what I should be doing now, but I'm finding this blogging everyday thing strangely addictive. I know I'm running out of things to say and that feels really, really good. Kind of like being purged. I do have a few things up my sleeve, some more unfinished posts and then I think I'll sit down and come up with a list of things to write about. Any suggestions? Maybe I could copy some of Suse's.