I think I have a touch of the cray-cray

This morning at 4:00, I woke up and felt like crap.  The two voices started chirping away in my head. (oh man, the voices).  Should I go to work or should I stay home? Rude is the Jude that doesn't give a hoot in hell.  Prude is the Jude that is always good. (She might even hug you.) So Rude and Prude go at it to the death.

First, let me make it clear that I am not really sick.  My throat is sore/scratchy and a tad mucous-y.  My head is pounding but I have no aches or fever.  There is nothing that I could pass along to someone else.

Rude:  Stay Home.  You don't know what you're doing at work..not only would you feel like crap, (and probably look like crap) but you would continue to feel like an idiot.
Prude:  You can tough it out.  Get up and make the lunches.  If you truly can't make it through that, we'll see.
Rude:  Of course, you are going to feel sick during lunches..your kids eat pre-packaged crap.  Take a whiff of those chicken nuggets that you are sending with Rachel.
Prude:  Oh give me a break.

I made it through the lunches.  Technically I am fine.

Rude:  C'mon..you only have two pending things from the day before.  How easy would it be just to send those in an e-mail to your manager and sound pitiful on a voicemail?
Prude:  Those pending things are pretty detailed.  If you were really sick, there is no way that you could describe them in an e-mail.  You just started working with your guy two weeks ago.
Rude:  C'mon..comfy warm bed...soft sheets..
Prude:  You know what is going to happen.  If you take today, Laurel or Rachel will really be sick within the next two weeks and you will have to take another day..it always happens.
Rude:  Again with kids? Jesus Christ.
Prude:  You can do it.
Rude:  Are you passing out balloons too Prudy??
Prude:  Shut up Rude.  As I was saying, wear your comfy suit and shoes.  Not those Tory Burch ones that Rude convinced you to buy.  You know how they pinch your big toe.  Ching is dropping off both girls this morning so you're good.

Prude is winning...so I get in the shower..at least I don't have to wash my hair.  But a road bump..God damn, this new eyeliner sucks..

Prude:  Don't go there...
Rude:  That eyeliner really does suck..it's a sign.  And while you are in the mirror..the skin around your eyes is totally becoming a road map of crow's feet.

Ignoring Rude, I get dressed..out of habit, I step on the scale..this could be bad.  Holy Shit, 123.6!  Score!!

Prude:  Look at that!  And your comfy suit and shoes are waiting!
Rude:  Wait until you see Laurel's outfit--definite a sign to stay home.  She is insistent on wearing bright blue pants with a purple shirt..it is a clash of awesomeness.  If your headache is gone, it will come back when you see the color combo.

Laurel is so full of pride, I can't say anything.  Push through..push through...I am going..good for me..small victories. yay!

Rude: Prude, if her day sucks, I am kicking the shit out of you.
Prude: I win!  Winner Winner Chicken Dinner!

Holy shit..I think I have a touch of the cray-cray..Oh Jude/Prude/Rude..whomever you are today..