Scottish Flu.

So the return back to work has not been as smooth as either Tim or I anticipated. Whatever we picked up in Scotland has stuck with us. We are both snotty, coughing messes. It's slightly humorous because it seems that all of the kids on the trip are suffering from the same malaise. At least we're in good company, right?

I survived Monday back at work. Tuesday afternoon, my boss asked me to go home. I was like, "but, I'm fine enough to work! I'm okay!" She told me to take my germs and leave. I asked her please not to call my parents and tattle on me, because when I was little, you only got to stay home from school if you were 1) bleeding 2) barfing 3) burning with fever. And a runny nose is not any of those three items. But she'd rather pay me sick time than have me get the rest of the office sick. Fair enough.

So I spent the rest of the day in my footie pajamas, feeling my Midwestern-work-ethic-guilt eat away at me. Sara got me the footies for Christmas, and made all of my holiday wishes come true. You may laugh, but they are seriously awesome. They keep my feet warm and they are snuggly. And they have a sock monkey theme.

Footie pajamas... making lounging fun since approximately 1982.