Sick Days

I used to be so stoic when I got sick. Back in the day when I was ill for six months out of the year. Comes with the territory when you are in asthmatic, living in mold conditions or later, when you are an asthmatic who smokes a pack a day. I would work through bronchitis, laryngitis, I even had pneumonia once and didn't know it until I started to get better and my mom sent me to the doctor. I never missed a day of work, I don't think I whined too much....
Four years ago, maybe even five now, I quit smoking. I get sick once or twice a year, nothing too serious. And I have turned into the biggest baby. This time, I got sick at the beginning of my 3 day weekend (yesterday was my Friday). I got home from work and I didn't want to eat anything except soup. We don't have soup on hand, and I was too lazy to make it. I whinged about it for hours, poking at the lovely salmon Rob made for dinner. Finally, 9pm, wearing my pyjamas and a coat, I stormed out of the house for the corner store, where I purchased one can of Amy's Chicken Noodle Soup (it was ok, but at least it was something I felt like eating). When I got back, I yelled at Rob for not offering to go himself. HE, of course, was completely baffled as he had no idea I was going anywhere until the door slammed shut. Boys. They should be able to read your mind!