I really don’t know how it happened or who’s to blame. Not that it would do any good to know these things. If I had to guess, the culprit is probably the guy on the other side of the cube from me at work, always coughing and making sounds that make me wince. I imagine the flu bug jumped right over the cube wall and found its way to me. But then again, who knows where it came from for sure.
Oh well — I give up trying to figure it out! The only thing I need to know is that I’M SICK. What felt like a tickle in my throat the other night has grown into a thriving patch of stinging nettle. The inside of my skull is a sweat-shop of pain, and I can’t remember what it feels like to breathe out of my nose.
You might not believe me, but there is one good thing about being as sick as I am: staying home and relaxing on my awesome Chofa for Two beanbag chair. I’ve got it set up in front of my high-tech space heater (the kind that beeps and swivels in all directions). And right next to the beanbag chair is an end table stacked high with the following sick-day items—a large electric kettle filled with water (so I don’t have to walk to the kitchen for tea), a box of tissues, my new book (11/22/63 by Stephen King), my laptop (for watching movies and writing to you), a bowl of fruit, and finally, a little bottle of nighttime cold medicine, for when I want to close my eyes and get some rest. Surrounded by this sea of comfort is me, nestled in my beanbag chair and wrapped in a wool blanket. If I weren’t sick I’d think I was in heaven.
I know what you’re thinking — “you need to take some vitamins… you really should try these pills I have for sore throats… you shouldn’t have stayed out late last weekend… you need to be more proactive about getting better…” But I don’t really want to hear it. I guess everyone has their own cure-all for getting over being sick, and in reality people want to believe it works for them. Speaking of work, I had to call out for three days, so I’ve got that to look forward to when I go back (hopefully go back) next week.
This year I said NO THANK YOU to the bitter drinks, nose pots, marble sized pills, and smelly remedies. Those things might work for some folks, but they don’t know what I know. There is a secret remedy out there, one that truly works and doesn’t make you wish you were dead. Ask me about it next time you’re sick and I’ll tell you all about that mysterious beanbag therapy.
