Throwing a Sickie

My sister and niece are here on a short break from the UK. 
They are staying with my parents.
I slept over too last night as I have a late start at college on Fridays.
Every other day I have to be on campus for 9am.
Which means leaving home at 7am in order to successfully navigate the rush hour traffic. 
But on Fridays I start at 12.
And I only have 2 hours of classes.

We had a lovely familial time last night.
And I may have had one or two more glasses of wine than I should have.
In fact I'm pretty certain an entire bottle met its death at my behest.

I said yesterday I was sick.
But that was in a disconsolate way.
This is different.

Added to my slight hangover is the prospect of the 'Hispanic Cultures' tutorial.
It's my final class every week.
What a sour note to finish on.
I am in one of those frames of mind where it would take very little to persuade me to stay at home.
The weather outside is atrocious.
A veritable deluge.
The driving conditions will be dreadful.
I'm clutching at straws.
But once clutched, I hold on tenaciously.
I refuse to let go.

I send Maisie a text.
I apologise and let her know that I won't be at class.
I tell her I must have eaten something the previous day that didn't agree with me.
It's not technically a lie.
I bit my tongue and swallowed my pride.

It's my first absenteeism.
And I feel really guilty.

©Alacoque Doyle