If I’m still sick on Christmas, I’m going to be pissed. Actually what I’m going to be is sick, which usually doesn’t leave room for many emotions except misery and a bit of frustration. But I will sure be pissed after the fact.
Maybe I can will myself better. It seems to be working slightly so far today, though my marginal wellness may also be due to the copious amounts of caffeine and Tylenol that I’ve consumed so far.
Last night, I finally had to admit that I’m not just tired, cold, and sore; I definitely have the plague. I was forced to accept this fact only because I realized I was going to die if I went to crossfit last night. So instead, I went to bed at 8 o clock like a 90-year-old.
Whenever I’m sick, I feel the need to make it known to everyone around me. This is only very minimally due to the fact that I am an attention whore who wants sympathy and mostly because I want to explain to everybody who must interact with me why I am being so grumpy and apathetic. But it’s kind of socially unacceptable to go around starting every conversation with, “I’m terribly sick today. Just so you know. What were you saying?”
When you have a cold, it’s easy. Everyone steers clear of your sniveling, sneezing, snotty self as soon as you set foot a room. But when all you can boast of is an odd assortment of mostly flu-like symptoms, letting the world know about your condition is a bit more challenging. Sometimes you must employ a few slightly questionable tactics.
So, when I woke up this morning I had a lovely coughing fit and horked up whatever it was that had got lodged in my chest while I slept. End of story. I didn’t have a cough at all after that. But whatever was wrong with me still made it really easy to cough in a convincing manner if I chose to do so, soooo …
That’s exactly what I chose to do when I got to work this morning. I pretended to have a cough. I didn’t have an obnoxious, loud, disgusting sort of cough, just one bad enough to warn everyone I work with not to come too close. There’s nothing wrong with that! I mean, I really AM sick, just not with a cough.
Only, now that I’ve spent the whole morning pretending to have one, I’VE ACTUALLY DEVELOPED A COUGH. And I can’t stop.
Well, dang. I didn’t see anything wrong with my behavior, but apparently the universe is getting back at me for lying to my coworkers.
I wonder how much Tylenol I’d have to take to be able to go to crossfit tonight?