After any big show, I donate the next few days to serious R&R.
Much to my chagrin, Andrew had PT scheduled for 9am the following day -that just happened to be Monday. I begged him to change it days in advance (he tried, but to no avail) and I had to drive him to the health center on campus.
No matter how comfortable the chair was in the waiting room, it wasn’t as comfortable as laying horizontal in my own bed. For the next 2 hours, I contorted my body with our jackets wrapped up beneath my head -among coughing children and chatty colleagues- hiding from the burning sun behind a large plant and my body growing more weak and painful as the common cold set up camp in my limbs.
With one ear open, I heard Andrew finally reappear into the waiting room only to discover a few of his colleagues wanting to chat up a storm. I felt badly that I wasn’t cordial to his plight or to his need to reacquaint himself with his professional network. I needed to get home because I was failing fast -and I had to drive.
I feel like crap. I have holiday orders to fill. I need an intern.