Will I make it to work on time?
Went to bed sick. Woke-up sick. Decided, in some sort of fear-of-death Puritanism, that calling in sick would be… well, lazy. And that would make me bad. (As if showing up late is somehow redeeming?). So here I am – in my underwear, with foreign things moving furniture in my abdomen, and with twenty minutes to be at work – and I am typing.
(You needed to know that.)