I haven't been out of the house in 49 hours. I'm sick. My thirteen year old sister keeps checking on me and ending with, "You have the swine flu." Well thank you, precious, for your professional diagnosis. I'll be sure to cough in your face the next time you're within germ-spreading distance.
The worst part about being sick is how many long, excruciating hours there are in a day. When you're well, you looooong for free hours to do whatever you want. Ohhhhh, to have a quiet morning sipping coffee and contemplating life's meaning. Or doing laundry. Whatever.
But when you're sick, the hours draaaaaag on and on. This morning, I woke up from a Nyquil-induced sleep at 7 AM (I know that's not early, but it's Sunday, so bite me) because I had to use the facilities so badly after drinking gallons (gallons, I tell you GALLONS!) of hot tea to flush the sickness out. I had intended to go back to bed, but I couldn't. Y'all, the Nyquil knows. It knows the sun is up. It knows it's time for you to switch to it's evil twin, Dayquil. (Which is, in my opinion, far less effective.) So when I looked at the clock after catching up on 57 episodes of various television shows and it was only 10:17 AM, I was so over this illness. I was ready to be up at 5:30 AM and happily rushing around to get out the door to work. Go figure.
The grass might be greener on the other side, but it's still just grass, and there will always be another side.
1 comment:
Clearly, the sickness has not interfered with your ability to dole out the funny. Thank goodness!
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