You know you're sick when...

This morning, I woke up feeling a little off, but I chalked it up to Monday morning blahs. Just hard to get going.

So I went to work. Early this afternoon, I was standing outside the CEO's office when I suddenly felt nauseous. Now, our CEO is a nice guy, so it wasn't that! ;) I also got so dizzy that I had to grab the copy machine to keep from falling over. Looking pathetic, I held on to the wall and slid over to the bathroom to try to compose myself, telling passing staff members, "no, it's okay; I'm fine."

For several minutes, I didn't know if I could even drive myself home. Fortunately, the dizziness reduced, and I was able to pull myself together. Not that I was in good shape at that point--our COO, who showed up a few minutes later, took one look at me and told me to go home.

So is it this to which the title of this post refers? No, actually.

I mean, I knew I wasn't well. I even took the radical step (for me) of calling my doctor. Still, it only got scarier after that.

On the way home, I saw a young man who was quite clearly very handsome. He had dark hair and a dark complexion, and the pants he was wearing showed off his magnificent butt beautifully. This is when things got scary.

Normally, such a sight would get me to wondering about sweet, wholesome things, like how it would feel to slide into that nice butt and what kind of look of ecstasy I could see on his face as I did. ;)

But what happened? Not a thing. I noticed him, but I felt so sick that I wasn't even turned on.

Terrifying. Truly terrifying. Things like this almost make me drive directly to the nearest emergency room!