No one loves being sick, especially no type-A person who views calling in sick to work, despite a.) inability to walk more than 25 feet without needing a rest and b.) the fact that the job is with children, making illness on the job akin to deliberate cruelty, a major moral failure, worthy of all-day guilt.
That said, though, you do get to totally indulge yourself for at least a day, whining with abandon, begging weakly, theatrically, even, for water, kleenex, the channel to be changed, totally ignoring the things that you could easily be doing because, dammit, you don't feel good.
Being (mildly) sick isn't a picnic, but, barring projectile vomiting round the clock, it's not unmitigated evil, either.
The preview illness gives you of daily life in another few decades, though? That's terrifying.
Trying to turn on the shower and being unable to manage it because your fingers ache? Cruel.
Shuffling around and tripping over nothing, with no apparent cause, because you just can't hold up? Scary, especially when you factor in that one day, your hips won't be so...bouncy.
Craving only tea and things that won't hurt your jaw with unnecessary chewing? Defeating the purpose of life.
On the plus side, we could all be hit by a bus tomorrow.
-Posted by Jilly
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
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