I went in late (turns out it didn't really matter) and helped by standing around a lot. At one point we had to clean trash out of the cabs of the cementing trucks (don't touch a frack truck! that's THEIR mess!..and they're pigs!) and unfortunately, though the mess only filled one little trash bag, the mess what nasty. My bag ripped at one point and oozed brown liquid on my coveralls. Yep... spitter... Since I already felt like hell I did the only reasonable thing, I gagged a bit and then said "I'm OUT!" No one protested. I think they knew I'd had it. I did check before leaving that I wouldn't be shunned for it but again, they seemed to understand. That and I explained that I felt like hell.
I came home for another shower and then I 1/2 cooked 1/2 slept on the couch. After I ate I 1/1 slept on the couch through the world cup finals. Lulled by the vuvuzelas I suppose... I hate being sick. It's worse when you're alone. No one pats you on the head and give you juice (Mommie!). Le sigh. I'll live but I'm gonna be crabby about it at least the rest of the day.