This morning, I had decided my workplace would be closed, based on the view from my window. I threw on comfy house-clothes and settled in. I sat on my bed, under perfectly-weighted blankets. I leaned into the pile of pillows and reflected on how comfortable I was in that moment. Then I got word that it was just a late-open.
I debated myself for a good amount of time whether or not to use a sick day. Responsible Adult vs. Lazy Voice. In the end, Responsible Voice didn't make a solid enough argument. I listened to Lazy Voice's advice and stayed home.
It's been great. I made a nice big salad. I showered and didn't blow out my hair—I look terrifying, but who's looking? I caught up on The Good Wife. I rented Guardians of the Galaxy. I have a headache, but I took some drugs, and I think I'll have some wine later. Or coffee...
And now I just got word from my second job that I'm not needed this evening. I am happy-dancing like crazy right now.
Now I get to continue my quest to comfortably accomplish as little as possible today. I will not leave the house as winter's last gasp surrounds everything in white, before it all turns to deep mud. Woo!!!!