4 pots of tea, contemplating a 5th

Colds have been passed around the office like they're going out of style for a few weeks now, and I finally caught one, despite my best attempts to stay away from the ill and to hand wash as appropriate. Usually I push through feeling icky, because there is too much to do and never enough time to do it in. But today I threw in the towel. I just couldn't face the drive to work, the hours to stay there (even if I did the most menial of tasks) and then the long drive home. So I called in, and stayed home (a luxury, I know, not everyone has sick time that can be used, and I realize how fortunate I am), and basically took care of myself for the day. So I've overdosed on television, and pots of tea, and soup, and covered myself with a blanket, and kept the lotion-enhanced tissue box at hand, and snuffled my way through the day. I had no focus at all, so even though I thought I could sit and write, I didn't have the stamina for it, nor the mental capabilities. I didn't even trust that I should be editing today. No, I actually allowed myself a day to rest and relax. Which I think is important, too. It means I won't have to decompress as much the next time I have free time (when I'm not sick) before my mental headspace is able to drift into where it needs to be to write. Even idle time isn't really wasteful time, sometimes. It's hard to always accept that when you're used to going a thousand miles an hour, but it can be true.