Yesterday was a pretty rotten day, all right. I woke up feeling sick. (Actually, it started as a mild sore throat on Tuesday.) So, I tried to call in sick, but I discovered that the "sick line" number I had was wrong. (Since I stared working at this clinic, on June 27th, I had never called in sick.) Without reporting to the sick line, our clinic might not get a float to open the front desk.

After more than thirty frustrating minutes of searching the University of Washington web site, I could not find the correct phone number for the float pool. (The UW web site sucks when it comes to finding anything. Unless you're a visitor looking for a campus map, on-line directories are non-existent. For some reason, searching the UW web site for something like "harborview sick line phone number" brings up pages as diverse as research papers on Restless Leg Syndrome and directions to the Pioneer Square clinic. This is a web site from an organization which has phased out its paper directories.) I was faced with a choice of either calling my supervisor's voice mail, and leaving the clinic short handed, or going into work sick. Over Phillip's objection, I chose the latter.

Phillip drove me into work, which got me in about an hour early. I discovered that "my" computer - the one I usually use at the front desk, anyway - wouldn't boot up. I shut it down and tried to reboot a few times, and it still wouldn't boot. So I called the computer help desk, who said they'd send someone over. A little after eight, my supervisor called to say she was on her way into work. (I have a great supervisor, but she never gets to work on time.) She asked me why I was whispering. I told I had a sore throat and couldn't talk any louder.

My supervisor got into work at nine, said I looked terrible, and asked me if I'd like to go home. I said that I would. I got the correct sick line phone number from her, and went home. I slept for the rest of the day, and skipped yoga class.

I got up this morning feeling very sleepy. I took a shower, and realized that I was still sick. Maybe it's my old-fashioned work ethic, but I hate calling in sick right before taking a four-day weekend. I needed to stay home, though, so I called into the sick line, sent an email to my supervisor and co-worker, and went back to bed.

I woke up about nine this morning, and thought that coffee might be nice. I laid in bed, thinking about grinding the beans, without have the strength to get up. I don't remember falling back asleep, but I woke up again a little before one o'clock. I had coffee and stayed awake for the rest of the day.

I'm still feeling weak, but I have no doubt that I'll be up to full strength for this weekend at Lopez Island.

I forgot to write a blog entry last night. It's not that I have to post every day, but I meant to post, and I got busy working on a compilation CD I've been working on, on and off, since the beginning of August, and suddenly it was time for bed. (I'm behind the times a bit. I still listen to CDs.) This latest CD is taking some time, because I'm taking extra care to make the songs feel like they fit together.

I didn't have much to post about last night, except that I wanted to record one of the best excuses for missing an appointment I'd heard in a long time. In the past five years I've heard: "My ride never showed up." "I forgot I had an appointment." "No one told me I had an appointment." or even "I was in jail." A patient yesterday came up with one I'd never heard before: "I was detained by the police." There was something about the use of the word "detained" that I enjoyed. There was something almost romantic sounding about it. It was like something out of a spy novel.

Not that anyone really needs to have a good excuse for missing appointments here, but that was a pretty good one. It wasn't his fault, apparently, and he wasn't arrested or jailed, apparently, so he can't be blamed and his excuse can't be corroborated.

I went to church this morning because today was Writers' Group, and I went to Writers' Group because I wanted to talk to Barbara about the details of us riding together to the Church Council retreat this Friday. I wanted us to have the details worked out before the Church Council meeting on Tuesday, so that anyone who wanted to have a ride would know when we're leaving.

Service this morning was led by a guest pastor. (No one in Writers' Group knew where our regular pastors were.) During her sermon, she explained that she is a Methodist minister who has been working on strengthening the bond between Methodists and Lutherans. Toward the end of the service, when general announcements were made, and I was thinking about how interesting it was to have heard a Lutheran service led by a Methodist minister, our church's music director got up and announced the concert he was doing: Choral music, sung in Arabic, with words from the Qu'ran.

There were five of us in Writers' Group this afternoon - three of us were missing. I read the piece I was going to read last month. It was a look back at my trip to Holland, written on the tenth anniversary of my visit. Nancy commented that my writing style has gotten "looser," but wouldn't clarify her comment. Knowing her as a stickler for correct grammar and proper meanings of words, I'm guessing that she didn't mean it as a compliment, but I was pleased by it. "Maybe I've read too much Kerouac," was my reply.