When denial fails

I work with children all the time. The sticky, messy, germy, throwing-up-at-work-and-coughing-in-my-face kind of children. In theory I should be sick all winter thanks to these children. I have always insisted that the reason I stay healthy is denial: I don't have time to be sick, I refuse the acknowledge that I'm sick, and I simply tell the assorted ailments to come back when I have more time.

Denial has failed. I have a cold. I'm stuffy and snuffly and miserable and trying to refrain from coughing all over those rotten kids who are responsible for this. I don't do sick very well unless I can hide from the world, sleep for a couple days, and get over it. Only I can't. I'm not sick enough (in my mind) to justify not working or studying or doing whatever it is I should be doing right now instead of blogging. I'm just too sick to do it all cheerfully.

I do not have the time or patience for this nonsense, so I am going to go and work on denial. I am not sick. I am not sick. I am not sick.