I’ve been put out with Sarcastro all afternoon because he hasn’t answered my hard-hitting email, which read, in part, “Yes, where is my five figure income?” and “I think I smell like hamsters. Is that a problem?”
And just now, I discovered that I didn’t actually send the email.
I have two criteria for deciding if I’m really sick and not just a little under the weather:
1. Do I not give a shit about how much work I have to do?
Right now, no. I care about laying down.
2. Am I irrationally mad at someone for something way beyond their control?
Therefore, I am actually sick and need to just admit it to myself.