On Sunday morning I was sitting in church. CG was sitting next to me and the only other person sitting within six feet of us was a woman sitting behind us. We were in the chapel so there was plenty of room to spread out.
As I sat listening to the lesson I couldn't help but notice the background noise. There was a lot of this background noise. There was coughing and hacking and horking out pieces of lung. It was a cacophony of disease. It reached the point that I could no longer focus on the lesson because I was so distracted and twitched violently with each new snort. It was all I could to sit through the lesson without jumping up and spraying everyone with disinfectant as I ran screaming from the room. But I didn't do that. Being all refined and stuff. I did leave the room though. But not before making one disastrous mistake.
I shook the bishops hand.
The bishop, who had probably shaken every hand in the room. And I didn't think to use hand sanitizer after because he looked healthy. I know. I'm a disappointment to germ freaks everywhere.
And here I am, three days later, sick, sick, sick. And a little mad. Okay, a lot mad. Although I was fine when I went to bed last night, by 4 AM I was coughing and gasping for breath. And panicking a little. And because of this, I didn't get to go to my Lolly girl's class today to help out. It is the highlight of our week. Hence the mad part.
I don't understand why people do this. It's like they somehow think that if they choose to go to work/church/whatever when they are sick then they are somehow superior to those that stay home.
If you are sick, STAY HOME. Please.