I woke up this morning, and practically from the first minute, argued with myself about whether or not to go to work. I showered, got dressed, ate a bland oatmeal breakfast, and wondered if I was just going to get there and be sick because I felt so nauseous, stomach-achy, and so on. Finally, at 6:30, the sick side of me won out and I called in. It was just another mid-term day today, which means no classes scheduled and an afternoon with no kids in the building, so I wasn't missing anything. I ended up sleeping off and on all morning, and again in the afternoon. So I guess I wouldn't have been much good at school. Not to mention that I was not looking forward to the prospect of another day there without heat, which they may have had today, for all I know. I was already going to be out tomorrow, since I have two doctor's appointments.I literally spent the morning on the couch, drifting in and out of sleep. I spoke to R for no more than ten minutes altogether, as she slept later and then went off to work at noon today. I emailed with the Hubs early to tell him I was home and to ask about his back, which is slowly improving. I don't think he took a pill or used heat on it yesterday. I guess that phase in his development is over now.
I do feel somewhat better, or at least, clearer in the head and not nauseous. I went to the supermarket after lunch for a few things, which was probably a mistake, since I was doing the interminable hot/cold thing the whole time, but I wasn't out long.
I got crazy email from the Chum after lunch. In my absence -- which I had emailed her about this morning but she hadn't gotten to read before lunch so she didn't know I was out -- she found herself in the faculty room, eating beside the SCM. Now, she knows him, of course, and has more than once been trapped by one of his absurdly detailed and irrelevant stories, but usually she can get away from him. Unlike yours truly, who is trapped in the library with him all day. Anyway, as she sat there eating her lunch, he ragaled her with a story about his dog barfing everywhere in the middle of the night. The truth. Can you say INAPPROPRIATE? The man has no filter whatsoever; if it's in his head, he must share it. (Apparently he worked some details of his wife's menopause into the story, too.) If I had been there, I think he wouldn't have told the story, because I've told him in the past to avoid barf, poop, and other tales of bodily fluid, but I would also have told him to stop because WE'RE EATING, but he catches other people so by surprise that they can't even gather their wits to tell him to quit it. They're too astonished. As I've mentioned before, I have met his wife and she seems normal. (Other than the obvious choice of marrying him.) I would love to see her someday and ask us if she knows that he tells us all this personal shit about her. I'll bet it would stop after that.
I'll ask again: is there any other husband on the planet who would do this? I think most husbands have the sense that if you say to them "Oh, I'm having a hot flash!" either they say "Oh" or, in a pinch, "Gee, sorry dear." And then they forget about it immediately. I can't imagine a one who would remember it and tell his co-workers the next day. I'm working with one seriously strange dude. It's as if he can't bear for her to have an experience that he can't share. As I've mentioned before, he loves to join in when a group of women are telling their labor/delivery stories and tell "his." When he does this, he is, as we used to say back in the day, cruisin' for a bruisin'. I can't believe no women has smacked him yet.
Hey, I wasn't even in school today and yet the SCM continues to annoy me. Well, only three and a half years to go.
