There’s a very particular form of devolution that happens to me whenever I get sick. In simplest terms, I turn into a big whiny baby who wants someone to take care of me.
Because it’s really so much effort to get up out of bed and make breakfast for myself. Someone should totally do that for me. And since you’ve found your way to the kitchen once, lunch and dinner shouldn’t really be all that hard, right? Just make sure to arrange the medicine and Kleenex so it’s not in the way of my drink. And if you wanted to rub my head for a little bit while saying positive, encouraging things, that would be great too. Just not too loud so I can hear my Netflix. And please don’t take it personally if I drift off to sleep; just use that time to clean up the mess I’m making, thanks.
Okay, I’m not actually that much of a jerk, but the point is, I feel like I want to be. I just feel so thick, and even going to the bathroom is very nearly more trouble than it’s worth. Please note the “very nearly” part, okay?
The downside, of course, is that the person most eligible for the position of taking care of me is A) five hours away and B), if she were here, likely to kick my ass if I acted like that. Which she’d have every right to. She did a half-marathon and still dragged herself around Disneyland later that day. I can handle a little dose of the flu without turning on the diva act.
Besides, I’m pretty much past the death warmed over phase. Now I’m in the fluid dynamics phase, where all this junk in my head and chest is realizing there are so many fascinating ways to escape. And doing so. Constantly. It does give me the deep, husky man-voice, but that eventually descends into dry hacking followed by wet hacking and so long sex appeal. Unless you’re into that kind of thing, in which case, ewww.
So no pampering for me. Just myself and my cold medicine and a fistful of cough drops. Although if someone wants to come by and take these movies back to Redbox for me, I totally wouldn’t mind.