I'm not really sick. I'm just all out of sorts. However, the only way I could justify doing what I need to do (which is to just give up and stay in bed) is to 'call in sick.'
Dear Sewing Machine: I'm not going to bring you out today, either. I will only end up hurting one of us.
Dear Fourth Of July Activities: It's too cold and windy and bright out there for me. And I don't like barbeque, anyway.
Dear Alameda Parade: You made my morning petsitting duties impossible because all the streets were blocked off. So I have to go back over to Alameda this evening. Which makes me grouchy.
Dear Fox Woman: You are a sad book. You are very beautiful, but you are bumming me out.
So, as my grandpa would have said, I know when I've been licked. It's time to call it quits and just give up. Terri had this good suggestion: "Why don't you just stay in bed and I'll bring you things?"
See why I love her?