work
In sing-songy voice:
I don’t want to go to work
go to work, go to work.
I don’t want to go to work
I’d rather stay in bed.
My body is still so sore from yesterday. My hand is still a bit tingly. 
I’ve got 9 pages of orders sitting on my desk to type, and my brain is so fuzzy that I’m worried I’ll make mistakes... and I haven’t typed orders for at least a year. But I’m more concerned about the thousands of dollars of shipping that Leonard could have. Shipping means invoicing and doing assemblies and walking back and forth to ask him questions. Shipping usually means stress because I have to wait until they double check and pack the orders before I get the sales orders to even start on them, and so its stressful to know that there is that much stuff coming and wonder how fast I can do it. Again with the not-doing-this-for-at-least-a-year.
Dude, I can feel the stresspains in the side of my tummy as I type this. :sigh: Can I just go back to bed?!
