I stupidly tried to go to work last Monday, but was sent home early and spent the next two days in bed.
Being a teacher it is very difficult to be off ill. The lessons continue. Someone has to take my classes, I have to try and think of work they can do, the marking piles up and I know my classroom will be a tip when I get back, never mind the hundreds of e-mails. Also, my classes can't learn without me (I'm not being arrogant, I teach maths and really, honestly, they can't teach themselves quadratic equations or parametric differentiation, they need a teacher). On Wednesday night I dragged myself out of bed to enter my classes' grades into the school database because they were due and my HoD had e-mailed me to do them ASAP. School does not wait for sick teachers.
So on Friday I decided I had to go back in.
I got out of bed at 7am, coughing and spluttering, put on my work clothes and headed to the kitchen.
That's when it happened.
The barrage of requests from hubby.
All the things he expected me to do again now that I was "better".
I responded with:
"Just because I'm wearing a dress doesn't mean I'm back in charge"