Sickly.

That's the word of the week.

In case you all hadn't noticed yet, men (at least the men of my acquaintance) don't do sick well.

In fact, they absolutely suck at it!

I was sick a week in January. I stayed home, called in to work two days to participate in 4-hour conference calls so I didn't miss my sales meetings entirely. I stayed in bed for three days, sleeping a lot, coughing more, and wishing with all my heart I could get well. I took myself to the doctor, picked up my own medicine, and made my own b'fast, lunch and dinner, when I felt like eating.

Jack? Uh-uh.

He's at work. Admittedly he's one up on me with that. But the key is: THEY ALL WANT HIM TO GO HOME. AND HE WON'T. Where's the point in being a martyr? Will they give him a huge raise for coming in when he's so sick? I think not. Will they congratulate him and give him a huge raise for infecting all the children and teachers in the school? I think not. Will he get to leave early or not come in on days when he's feeling well and can have some fun with his wife? I think not.

SO WHY THE H-E-DOUBLE-HOCKEYSTICKS DOES HE HAVE TO GO INTO SCHOOL SICK? Any why-oh-why do I have to remind him to take his medicine, eat some dinner, rest so he can get better?

He's 56, soon to be 57 (April 12th). I think he's old enough to do sick better.