I'm getting ready to go home.
I'm sick and cold and achey.
I've cancelled my babysitting thing this evening as to avoid getting little man Jake sick.
I want to go home and take a bath. And I want to be coddled by someone who cares enough to make me chicken soup. Alas, I'm pretty sure that all of those people are either otherwise engaged, inept in the chicken-soup department, or thousands of miles away.