Today I rescheduled my travel. I was supposed to be on a plane about six in the morning tomorrow at an airport about an hour away. I spent last week hacking and snorting snot. I was at work, yes, and I was embarrassed to be so contagiously ill. I started feeling really seriously sick the Friday before and thought I was going to get over the worst of it on Saturday and Sunday. But I kept right on feeling lousy all week.

I used to save up my vacation so I could take time off if I got sick. But my boss–everyone’s boss–has really been after us to schedule all our vacation and not carry it over. So in early September most of my vacation got used up. I have a few days left, two or three, but it wouldn’t have covered for all last week. And this week.

I think I finally turned the corner (no, really, this time I really did). But I went and got a prescritption anyway. The last think I want is to still be coughing — feeling better, maybe, but still spreading germs — when I actually travel two weeks from now.

But I am guiltless on rescheduling this week’s travel. My boss already wanted to amend how long I would be down there and that was already going to incur the rescheduling fee. And two weeks later is a cheaper fare, partially offsetting the fee. The plane doesn’t come back in on Friday until about 11 p.m. but I get paid travel time.

It occurs to me that at the current air fares I probably get paid enough in travel time to pay for an earlier flight back. Oh well. The cheap tickets are partly due to the long layover in Detroit this airline is treating me too, so it’s hard to get an earlier flight without leaving midway through the work day at best.