I didn't go to work today. I'm not sick; there are no sniffles to be had and the bird flu remains at bay. I'm not hungover; Ryan and I did hit up the Kinvara for awhile last night, but that's not the sort of place you'd pick to fall off the wagon of decency. I didn't have anything in particular to avoid at work; my Mondays are actually pretty mellow. But here's the thing: I didn't call in. I didn't call anyone. I just had stuff I wanted to get done outside of work and decided to not go or inform anyone that I wouldn't be there and see if I could get away with it without having it count as a sick day. Really, what the hell was I thinking? Who does that?
I took blatant, selfish, unprofessional advantage of the system. The system wherein there isn't an omnipresent boss to notice my absence; she appears now and then from "headquarters" when there's a crisis but is mostly a voice on the phone, like Charlie (which I suppose makes me an Angel). The system wherein everyone assumes that if they don't see me that I must be at a meeting or something. The system wherein I knew that my office wouldn't look empty and uninhabited because Supergirl would be there bright and early to open the door and turn on the light. I may have to contend with her tomorrow, but hopefully she's the only one.
Spring is off to a lovely, if unmotivated, start.