it’s saturday morning. Lauren is in West Hartford, and i’m sitting with coffee to my left and a movie playing in a distant corner of the room.

i’m trying my best to not do anything. i went to the doctor thursday and was told that i have the flu, that i should rest. but my organization is throwing the largest event in its history tonight (330 guests at $175 a ticket and tens of thousands of dollars in auction items), and it’s been difficult leaving the vast preparations to the one other (overworked and exhausted) staff working on them. (i could hear the bricks being laid through the earpiece when i called my boss to tell him i couldn’t be in.) i slept in yesterday morning only to think i felt good enough to go into work at noon only to realize around 6 p.m. that my body wasn’t up to it.

how was i supposed to know that even the most common daily movements for just a few hours would turn my limbs into noodles and my back into a giant knot?

Lauren spent the evening shaking her head at me. you need to take care of you first, she kept saying in various ways. i know she’s right, but it’s hard to do when i know others will be more burdened if i’m not around to help.

i’ll head over to Yale Commons around 4 p.m. my suck-it-up (male) boss asked if i could arrive at 10 a.m. (i’ll be there until at least 12:30 a.m.) until the (female) executive director stepped in and said i should be resting as much as possible so that i’d be useful during the event.

so i’m trying desperately to stay seated–reading, watching tv–until then.

stay still, sara. need to iron my shirt. need to clean up. grrrr. two books to read. an endless array of channels. this shouldn’t be that hard, should it?