palmerpink

I hate being sick more than just about anything I can imagine. Nothing can match the frustration and furious feverings, nor the lost time and energy. I love a good excuse to nap as much as anyone, of course, but tossing and turning between coughing fits and flashes of fever & chills is not cool . Then there's that fuzzy headed acheyness when your cranium gets all full up on phlegm and mucous. That soggy brained feeling mixed with a dull, ceaseless pain. Don't get me started on how much I hate snot in any form--a hatred conditioned over many years of terrible allergies. But let's not forget that infuriating uselessness--between losing the ability to form contiguous (nevermind cohesive) thoughts to the leaden ache in every joint and limb...how are you supposed get anything done like that?? But of course that's just it. Everyone stops expecting you to be a productive member of society when you're sick. Which you'd think would be some kind of blessing except ...

I was discriminated against the other night. In fact, I've been discriminated like this every day of my life. Truth is, I don't entirely care; I'm not interested in 'bucking' the System' so much as 'strongly questioning' it. Very strongly. So, I bike to work. Naturally I wear regular street clothes for that. No need ruining good work clothes with the commute--especially with summer on its way. When I get to work, I go in through the Associate Entrance, put my things in my locker, then proceed to the other side of the store to change my clothes. I realized earlier this week that on my way to the bathrooms, as I walk through that lingerie section, women's ready to wear, and whatever that other one is, I must be passing at least two fitting rooms. Like, areas with a dozen fitting rooms each. It occurs to me--those are actually closer, and easier, and more reliable, than the stall in the men's rooms. I have to ask myself--why not hop in a fitting...