Today is one of those days when I wish I had a job outisde the home. If I had one, I could take the day off and spend hours in bed feeling sniffly and babying the migraine behind my eyes. Unfortunately, my current employers do not offer sick leave nor do they, they claim, understand the meaning of the word quiet. Why have I failed to turn them into mindless TV zombies would will zone out in front of the TV? Instead they run around shouting (or practicing a new talent for high pitched squeals on the part of my youngest boss) and demanding that the chief bottom wiper perform her services every 15 minutes or so. No rest of the ailing here.