June 22nd, 1973
Usually, I pay minimal attention to my clothes– how I look when I got to work. I think mostly I must come across as pretty slovenly– a faded dirty pair of jeans and a wrinkled shirt– most days I don’t even shave. A far cry from bygone Army Times/Oklahoma City days when dressing well and looking “sharp” was a prime concern.
Last night I ironed my yellow pants and the pink shirt Gayle gave me. Richard made a pouty comment about getting dressed up to entice the interns at work.
I think he really is brooding over why I got dressed this morning. On one level that flatters me. On another, it worries me.
2:30PM–
Strange– today I am apparently experiencing a repeat of my illness from the other day. Felt great this morning. Clicking to work all dressed up. Come home for lunch and noticed that I was very very tired– sleepy. After I got back to work, I began to ache all over again– just like before. I felt like I just wanted to lay my head down on my table and groan off to sleep. Complete symptoms of the flu– except no nausea.
God, what a day to have this happen– we’ve got so much work piled into that office right now– and we are unbelievably behind on that GPD book I’m pasting up. I felt like I was just really leaving Allan stranded– and on a Friday. Christ. Henry and Bob weren’t there when I left. I’m sure they’ll blow their stacks and panic when they find out I went home sick– without a single page of that book done today. And they want me to work this weekend, too. I want to do a terrific job too– I hope they don’t get part-time help today and then tell me not to come in tomorrow.
worry worry
fret fret
expectation of catastrophe
but what can I do? I’m sick
I’m so drowsy. I’m going to curl up and drift off into achy sleep. I’ll worry about the rest later.