Lock me up

I'm home sick today...again...with a nasty cold which sounds as if it's merely been an inconvenience.  Let me assure you, this is the worst I have felt in years, next to that one time I got really sick the week before I got married, but even then, I lost 7 pounds before my wedding so it's not like it was completely worthless.  And I won't even go into the dangers of coughing while 9 months pregnant.  

I've barely moved from my bed.  But last week is proof this is where I belong--confined to my own home with little or no interaction with others.  Last week I failed social conversation at it's worst.  Two of my 'foot-in-the-mouth mishaps' were with co-workers, and one with a midget at Cafe Rio.  

The first was with a male co-worker who is a total hypochondriac.  After going through the list of ailments he thought he had, I insisted his mother was probably the reason behind all of this ridiculous paranoia.  Because let's face it, we are products of our parents.  I don't like touching public door knobs or  the remote controls in hotels largely due to my own mother's influence; I am a bit of a germ-a-phobe.  Well turns out, the answer is yes, his mother has played a significant role in his paranoia....because she is currently battling cancer.   I felt like the biggest jerk.  I apologized and silently excused myself.  

The second was a similar situation, but I won't go into details other than the fact that it had to do with me giving a co-worker a hard time for canceling his RSVP to this awesome corporate holiday party I've been planning because his marital relationship is "a sensitive subject and complicated".  Ouch.  Okay, now I really sound awful! 

And third, I was walking out of Cafe Rio with dinner to-go, and if you've ever been there at peak hours, it's a challenge just to make it out the door.  As I pushed through the sea of people, all I could see was this sweet little girl (I couldn't see her face) holding the door open for me.  Trying to encourage this young girl her manners were not to be taken for granted,  I bent down and said thank you in an enthusiastically, high-pitched baby voice (I'd only to talk to children under 6 with), I see this midget adult staring back at me.  The clearly annoyed look on her face said it all.  Oops again.  

3 strikes last week. Seriously, what is wrong with me?  Lock. Me. Up.