on being sick.

I've been a bit under the weather and a fellow blogger posted this and I sympathized with it so well, I thought I'd share rather than try to get up the energy to write my own post. (Sorry, more original content soon.)

Feel better and then worse, and hot and then cold. Feel all the little hairs on your whole body stand up. Open and close windows, get under and crawl out of blankets. Maybe one leg under, one over. Watch 30 Rock in your sleep. Awake to a red Netflix screen. Hit “Next Episode” and close your eyes. Buzz him upstairs. Look in the mirror. Move your hair to the other side. Give up. Let him bring you soup and grapefruit juice. Try to act like you know how to be taken care of. Wonder how long until he realizes you’re a fraud. Watch TV with him. Try not to touch him or breathe on him. Let him leave. Get bored and try to write, try to gchat anyone who will listen to you say absolutely nothing, try to watch reruns of everything you’ve ever seen. Clean the stove again, take another shower, take two kinds of meds that probably counteract each other. Lie in bed and think about every stupid thing you’ve said this week that you wish you could take back. Every personality flaw you wish you didn’t have. Wonder if you would be better off going to work tomorrow. Wonder if there are still 1-800 numbers for psychics. Wonder if they would just talk to you for a while, free of charge, if you told them you wanted to apply for a job. Check your e-mail. Check your e-mail. Check your e-mail.

from here.

(except I've been watching Grey's Anatomy on Netflix, and at a particularly horrible moment in the middle of the night last night I found what I now realize are outdated Advil Cold & Sinus pills and took two, but the part about not knowing how to be taken care of is very true. at least, by anyone other than my mother, who is 5 hours away. a boy did offer to get me soup, though, and for that I'm very appreciative.)