Lying in bed, just like Brian Wilson did

"So I'm lying here, just staring at the ceiling tiles, And I'm thinking about, Oh what to think about."

Oh, Barenaked Ladies, I still love thee!

I am feeling like a recluse, a little Brian Wilson-esque if you will, since my self-imposed isolation started Friday afternoon. During my bout of bronchitis I've made several attempts to do "normal" things. For example, on Saturday I attempted to mow the front lawn. I live in the city, my front lawn is tiny. The lawn mower won that round. I barely finished and was drenched in sweat afterward (and it was only like 76 degrees out). You would think I would have learned a lesson but no. On Sunday, once again feeling very Brian Wilson-esque (meaning like a fat ass) I decided I would attempt to run two miles. What a joke. At the one mile mark I nearly passed out and had to walk the rest of the way home.

So today I decided I would really take care of myself.

After waking up and taking my temperature and realizing I still had a fever, I decided I would work from home. When it came time for my morning medications, I made a big mistake. I ran out of name brand Mucinex yesterday and moved on to the leftovers of a generic version from the last time I had bronchitis. In my feverish haze, thinking generic Mucinex is a "lesser" Mucinex, I popped two of them and thought nothing of it.

Until about 20 minutes later.

When I felt like I was going to vomit. And then I felt stoned. And then I felt like vomiting again.

During my Mucinex high I decided to drive to Walgreen's (horrible idea) to buy a Coke to settle my stomach and orange juice because I had polished off an entire carton of OJ this weekend.

Thankfully I managed to drive to Walgreen's and back without incident (that I can remember anyway) but upon my return got to deal with my very "special" next door neighbors.

In previous blog posts I've referred to them as Cranky Old Man and Crabby Old Woman. They watch me like teenage boys watch anything featuring Megan Fox.

Cranky Old Man was mowing his lawn when I returned from Walgreen's. I used the "avoid eye contact" technique as a scurried in the house. However, I could feel him staring me down as I ran in - making efforts to cough extra loud in the hopes he would get that I am sick.

Pathetic, yes. But here's the deal. I took a week off work around Memorial Day. Then, after two days back to work I got sick. Cranky and Crabby are old school, and believe people have to go to an office (or factory or who knows what) and work from 9-5 to "work." I have a laptop and a cell phone - I can pretty much work anywhere. Not to mention the fact I travel a lot for work and work weekends several times per year, so there are plenty of times I am home on a random Tuesday or Wednesday to make up for it. One time I was home on a random week day and he stopped me and said, "Don't you work?"

On week days when I am home sick, working from home or on a "staycation" I feel like a prisoner in my own home because they are watching, wondering and judging.

Why do I care what Cranky and Crabby think about me? I can't answer that.

All I know is that after five days of hiding away like Brian Wilson, I am ready to return to the land of the living, and away from the prying eyes of Cranky and Crabby!