20151202.0632

Work still continues. I was able to get the one freelance piece done yesterday, submitting a lengthier write-up than normal--particularly for a Patterson novel. But I was able to get some extra pay out of it, so I am not vexed at the longer text. (Oddly, though, the novel was not longer than Patterson usually writes. There was more going on in it than in most of his books, which is what prompted the longer treatment. Not all of it is to the good, though--but for those comments, I have to suggest that the reading guide I wrote be bought. The more who buy them, the more I get to write, and the more I get paid as a result. It works to my advantage.) I also got the quizzes graded that I needed to grade. The papers, however, remain, and I still need to translate the text I will be using for the students' exam. Consequently, I remain busy.

I also remain less than my best. I am still fighting a cold, and it is still making its way into my chest. This morning was particularly annoying. I took a cough suppressant so that I could get some sleep, and it worked insofar as it said it would. I stopped coughing once it took effect, and I slept more or less straight through the night. (The Mrs. woke me up once inadvertently.) When I woke, however, there were clots of phlegm in my throat, and clearing them was wholly unpleasant. Seeing globules of brown and green sputum that were only moments before inside me was not at all comforting, and having them come out in a staggered, splattering sequence was not comfortable. I am still coughing, still bringing stuff up, and it still annoys me. It interrupts what I want to do, and it hurts my chest to cough so much. I find that I have greater sympathy for some of the older members of my family; what I have been experiencing as a short-term, temporary thing was an enduring and more intense thing for them. So there is that.

This morning has tempted me to stay home from work, to do what I can to do try to recover. Crawling back into bed for as long as the Mrs. and Ms. 8 will let me sounds like a good idea. I dare not, however. I have already been away from work for illness this term, and I am not sure I have any leave time left. Too, it is the run-up to exams, and I already draw enough complaints from students as it is; I do not want one of them to be dereliction. And I am minded of something I am told a great-grandfather said, which I paraphrase because I do not remember the quote well enough: It is not as if I'll feel better lying in bed than I'll feel while working, and I can at least get something done.

I am an academic, after all.