This is how I felt all week:
My team seems to think that I've had this stormy cloud over my head for the past few weeks. Oh, gee, I don't know. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I've teetered on DEATH because of this demon cough I can't seem to kick.
So despite my team not giving a shit at how sick I am, I'm actually quite pleased that I managed to stay alive. I know. I'm surprised. I'm hoping that tonight will be the night I actually get better. What do people say sometimes? Mind over matter? Yea. That.
Me: Has anyone seen my purple pen?
K: That's the worst insult. You say something to someone, and instead of getting a response, they start popping pills.
Me: Did you say something?
K: You talk all this shit about me online, but you say nothing to my face.
Me: I don't talk shit. I make keen observations.
And you know what? I don't care how sick I've been, how much I've worked, and how much I've destroyed myself over the past week. Because tomorrow is motherfucking Thursday, which to any consultant is the best goddamn day of the week.