I’m laying here in bed – alone. Nobody wants to come near me.
I’ve been on the front lines, working eight hours a day or more all week, ringing in hoards of toilet paper, hand sanitizers and everything else people can get their dirty little hands on.
The CDC said that everyone should avoid anywhere that has over 250 people or more. Well, one thousand or more people go through my line every day.
My place of employment informed us they don’t want us handling customer’s shopping bags, but they are is still making me handle money and Airmiles so really, what’s the point? The Corona Virus is going to travel on the money.
I’ve been wearing gloves and I’ve used sanitizer. I’m not touching my face. I have tried to be diligent. Does anyone care that I am exposed? No, as long as the grocery store doesn’t close, and there is still somebody available to ring in their chips and other processed shit so that they can bunker down, germ free.
I don’t even want to go to work, but dammit, I need the money.
Only one person out of thousands asked me if I have enough food. ONE.
It started off as allergies today, or so I thought.
That’s right, the Germy Whisperer is deluding herself.
I know what you’re thinking…
Now I know I’m coming down with something. Dammit! I bet ‘ole slimy, money mouth that I mentioned in the last blog infected me.
I dragged my ass at work today. I couldn’t breathe and felt really wiped out. Every hour felt like an eternity of damnation.
I partook in Nyquil, Tylenol 1`s, chicken soup and a hot bath with apple cider vinegar to kill the pestilence. I even went all out and ate a few dry crackers. I figure at this point it doesn’t matter if I over-do it with the carbs. I’ll probably be up-chucking it in an hour anyway.
Kleenex will be my intimate friend for the next few days.
I feel like shit. No…I feel worse than shit. I feel like shit that has been rolled in shit and then left on the street in extreme heat to ferment.
Thank God I don’t have to work tomorrow. Diapers aren’t a good look with my uniform. Neither is a runny clown nose, for that matter.
I need to stay home with my kitah’s. I’m feeling very cranky and might accidentally fork stab somebody. Especially a bitch…er, I mean person at work who is really getting on my nerves lately.
My fucking stomach sounds like a hyena burping the Star Spangled Banner to a dying moose.
I will be out of commission for a little while. Send me some cheer! I need it.