Yes, I’m sick. I’m a sick work-from-home writer with no real employer and no sick days.
I can call in sick whenever I want because there’s no one to call! Hello? Hello? It’s Shelley, and I’m sick. Hello?
Sure, I won’t get paid for today, but I already wasn’t getting paid for today. This works out beautifully, don’t you think?
In all sincerity, I hope the nation’s sick workers aren’t in their office buildings, throwing up in stall number five, sixth floor, next to the janitor’s closet. I hope they’re not struggling through the day because they’ve already booked the year’s last sick day for a Twins game. But if you are puking in stall number five, know that I’ll be thinking about you, in my home, from bed number one.