One nice thing about being sick is that I can do absolutely nothing and it’s okay. I didn’t have to go out this weekend. I just stayed at home, napped, read, hung out with DH and the cats, and watched TV.
Yet, even though I’m in no form to go into work today, I feel guilty about not being there and not getting anything done. So much so, that I’m considering working on a conference abstract or reading papers so I don’t feel like I’m “wasting” the day.
How stupid is that? I mean, really, I shouldn’t feel bad about wanting to feel better. If I let myself rest, then I’ll recover way faster than if I don’t.
Sometimes I wish I could be a cat for a day: