It must have been a sign that I'd been overdoing it lately. On Wednesday, I woke up with a slight headache and a sore throat. By the time I managed to contact my three on-site managers, talk to the temp covering for my co-worker, and email my manager who works remotely to see if I could go home early, my head felt like it was splitting in two and my throat hurt more than it had since I'd had mono. I must have found the slowest cab driver on the East Side because, by the time I arrived at my apartment, my mental stopwatch figured out that it might actually have been quicker to take the subway home.
This signaled that I was destined to have a Homebody Weekend. You know what this is; when you: buy every magazine that you can, make sure the remote is working, pull out the delivery menus, check out pay-per-view or free movie downloads, and hunker inside for a couple of days. Fortunately, the weather cooperated for this. We are still in the middle of a grey, unseasonably chilly and rainy cycle. No offense to my friends across the Atlantic, but this feels like an English spring to me, which is completely unfair as I don't live there anymore.