I never, ever get sick. Yet when I do, it feels like the end of the world.
I feel like the dinosaurs must have felt when they saw the meteor coming.
I feel like how Friends fans must have felt when they realized the series was (finally!) coming to an end.
I feel like the girl who just texted her crush, “Do you like me like me?” only to get the response, “Who is this??”
I feel like how every Democrat felt when they realized Hillary didn’t win.
I feel like how every Democrat still feels when reminded that Hillary didn’t win.
I haven’t had the time (or desk space) to post since moving, so I thought my return post would be totally different.
I figured I’d tell you about the resort I stayed at during the four days before my move. You know, how I loved everything about the place: the cozy bed, the ridiculously hot (but ambient!) fireplace, the otherworldly candies they kept at the front desk, the otherworldly front desk candies that ended up in ALL of my pockets, and the food. Oh, the room service was killer. Whenever I travel, room service is my jam. I can’t help but try every room service menu I come across. This one was superb. Best nachos of my life. Their breakfast was also excellent.
Besides that, I thought I’d update you on how the new house is working out. I’d tell you how great it is and how happy I am to be here. Then I’d go into a whole dramatic spiel about me being an insufferable pack rat who doesn’t have the skill it takes to be a minimalist like I’d originally planned because I have far, far too much s—t and I love it. I would have probably tried to post a doodled recreation of what the upstairs used to look like before I worked some kind of witchcraft and made everything look less…disastrous.
Honestly, I never realized how many personal items I owned until I asked the movers to drag nearly everything up here and I proceeded to dump it all out onto the floor. I thought it would help me organize better if I could actually see everything I needed to put away. Bad idea. For about a week and a half, I was starting to wonder if I needed to contact the producers of Hoarders on myself. I mean, I was literally stepping on things wondering if I’d later find a pet I’d forgotten I had beneath all the rubble Iike they do on the show.
“Oooh…Fluffy. I thought this one had done ran away. Where’d you find ‘im?”
“Uh, under ten feet of old pizza boxes.”
“I’m going to use those, you know. Don’t throw ‘em out! I just know I can use ‘em for something.”
My return post should talk about how I’ve managed to unpack and find a home everything, but I haven’t, so I can’t. It should detail how great my workouts have been lately…I mean, IF I’d been working out. And surely I should have met the most amazing guy ever at the farmer’s market, right? Wrong! In fact, I don’t even know what day the farmer’s market takes place. Long story short, I’m horribly behind when it comes to the timetable I had for myself before moving in. I was supposed to have everything unpacked, organized and ready for me to start my brand new life, but noooo. Life happened.
Don’t get me wrong though. I was on SUCH a roll until this abomination of a cold crept up on me; I was owning these moving boxes. But now? Pfft! I seriously feel as though my entire life philosophy has folded on itself. I mean, I do not get sick. I just don’t. Do you guys know how long it has been since germs have entered my body and successfully managed to attack my poor, sweet healthy cells? Forever! That’s how long.
Outside of my normal health issues, which have nothing to do with colds, flus or any of their yearly mutating derivatives, it has been at least seven years since I’ve come down with something. Each flu season is a breeze for me. While everyone else is dousing themselves with antibiotic soap and sneezing their heads off, I’m over here declining flu shots for sport. At first, I used to take great pleasure in the simple notion of being healthy enough to avoid the flu, but after awhile I learned to quite enjoy the look of horror on nurses’ faces when I say, “Oh, I don’t need a flu shot.”
And I still don’t. I am currently over here hacking and sniffling not because I failed to accept an immunization or adequately wash my hands. I’m not even sick because I allowed a small child to touch me with worryingly sticky hands that are coated in God only knows what. No, my good friends, I got sick because I failed to take out adequate time to rest. I was so determined to get myself perfectly moved in as soon as I possibly could that I ignored how run down I felt. Now I’ve been practically glued to my bed for the last three days.
It’s funny though because when I was a kid, everyone liked being sick. I mean, we never truly liked it, but we thoroughly enjoyed some of the perks. No school. No homework. All the cartoons and daytime trash television (think Jerry Springer and Maury) we wanted… at least when our parents weren’t in the vicinity. Soup and tea in bed. We could sleep as long as we wanted to. People would wait on us hand and foot, feeling sorry for us. You’d even get a lollipop after visiting the doctor’s office. It was great.
Being sick just isn’t fun as an adult. First of all, there’s no joy in watching trash tv because it’s hardly as shocking as it once was. I mean, I could easily meet a girl with 20 potential baby daddies off the street on any given day. Sure, there’s no school or homework, but I wouldn’t have that anyway! There’s no one to wait on me now either. I’m actually lucky if anyone remembers I’m around. “Oh, you’re still alive? I wondered what happened to you, but then I got a notification…and kinda forgot…all about you…”
There’s also no lollipop because I’m old AF and they don’t give lollipops to women old enough to have their own children (discrimination…am I right??). Not to mention the fact that I didn’t even go to the doctor. Mostly because I’m stupid, but also because it costs money now…my money. No thanks.
Soup and tea in bed also sucks as an adult. You know why? ‘Cause I like variety, that’s why. Soup is so damned booooring. ‘Nuff said. Besides, I’m a coffee person, not a tea person. However, you can’t have cream when you’re sick because cream is dairy and dairy produces mucus and mucus is bad… blah blah blah. That’s why my self-care included Peanut M&Ms and Sour Patch Kids. They weren’t just regular Sour Patch Kids either. These were Sour Patch Kids Extreme. I’m convinced that these provide extra therapeutic benefits, but you don’t have to believe it.
For the most part, I have spent the last few days doing one or more of the following:
1.) Sweating like a filthy barnyard animal from repeated fevers
2.) Dying of hypothermia from sopping wet clothes caused by aforementioned fevers
3.) Wondering how closely my chest congestion compares to an actual death rattle
4.) Clutching my chest in agony upon realizing it sounds way too similar
5.) Marathon watching Family Affair and loving it
6.) Tossing and turning and hating it
7.) Jumping out of bed thinking I’m well again only to later discover I’m worse off than I was
8.) Butchering the roof of my mouth with Sour Patch Kids Extreme(ly dangerous) candies
9.) Starting to watch YouTube videos with extreme enthusiasm only to fall asleep two minutes in
10.) Bargaining with God to let me pull through this trying time in exchange for me not cussing for like…an hour or so. Just trying to be realistic, here.
As bad as I’m probably making it sound, being sick hasn’t been complete crap. Sure, I feel as though I’ve coughed so much and so hard that all my ribs are broken, but I’ve also had a chance to reflect upon all of the things I wish to do once I’m well again. As overwhelming as it can be, I look forward to having the strength to finish unpacking. It’s particularly crazy how motivated I am to hop on the rower or treadmill now that I realistically can’t fool with either machine. Where was this sense of urgency pre-NyQuil induced stupor?
No, but for real, this rare occurrence of me getting sick really helped drive home just how grateful I am to have (mostly) good health all the other days of my life. It was interesting to see what activities I genuinely missed (or didn’t). The hustle and bustle of daily living can sometimes make it hard for us to spend time doing the things that really make us happy. Perhaps we have personal goals that we’d like to work on, but they get pushed to the side for other commitments.
For me, I missed singing the most. It’s something I unconsciously do every single day. Even though I know how much I love music, it wasn’t until my vocal cords were out of commission that I realized just how important singing truly is to me. It is hard to imagine spending the rest of my life without the ability to sing.
These last few days have served as a potent reminder to not take such passions for granted. If you love something, do it—Never make excuses for why you can’t. Not making enough time to do something or being too afraid to pursue something is not the same thing as “not being able to”. As long as your body physically allows you to perform an action that you love, you can and should do it. Talents and skills are gifts we’ve been given either through natural-born means or hard work and dedication. Never waste them thinking that you’re not ready or you don’t have everything you need. As long as you have the gift, you’re more than ready.
Anyway, that’s all the wisdom I have to drop on you all for today. It’s already 11. I’m late for my coughing attack 😛