It appears, after searching this handy dandy blog of mine, that I got this sort of sick around this time last year (except it was the end of January. Same thing, right?). Maybe January likes to kick my immune system’s ass. Happy New Year!
Anyway, I’ve been sick, which I hate – although despite my hate – I’ve affectionately taken to call it “the death cold” because it’s the kind in which I can’t quite function. A couple weeks ago, I was also sick, but it wasn’t the death cold – it was a bitchy excuse for a cold.
DC descended upon me last Friday night, as I was walking home from dinner. Like something out of a novel (or the movie “Frozen,” if you’ve seen it… [Have you seen it? I’m almost 30. I don’t even care what you say. It’s amazing.]), I breathed in the night air only to realize that it felt like little icicles were kicking, and then resting, in my chest. “Yup, I’m sick,” I said.
(Don’t worry. I wasn’t talking aloud to myself. Someone else was there. I only talk to myself when I’m indoors.
… I kid.
So Saturday, I endured work. I ate 7 oranges. I drank tea. I got health advice from everyone:
“Cinnamon and lime.”
“Lots of Theraflu!”
“Halls.” This from a guy who then gave me a wet, soggy, coughdrop from his pocket. We don’t have to focus on the absurdity of this. Moving on.
I spent all of Saturday evening and Sunday in bed. My parents urged me to stay home Monday (the temps were supposed to be -40 something), but I – MIGHTY MANDA! – vowed that I would have kicked the cold out of my system. It didn’t happen, and for the first time ever in my current job, I called off work.
(Actually, I woke up for work, called off, decided I would go to work because I felt so bad about calling off that I took a shower, got dressed, and promptly passed out in my bed. I woke up 5 hours later. Who’s sick? NOT ME!)
I then spent Monday wondering if I should go to work Tuesday, and ultimately decided to stay home and rest one more day (but, between you and me? Resting is totally boring. It looks just like chilling, but it’s not. Chilling is like, “I just wanna watch Hulu all day. Here I go, watching Hulu all day. MY CHOICE.” Resting is like, “I ADMIT THAT I AM NOTHING WITHOUT MY IMMUNE SYSTEM.”). I only went out once on Tuesday – to mail rent, because well, seven days late is fashionable – and it took me what felt like 17 hours, so I guess resting was needed.
I returned to work today. I hacked and coughed my way through 8 hours, catching up on work and there’s still more to do. If only I could heal and all my work could be magically done for me.
Ah, the life.
So now I guess I’ll go back to resting. Maybe when all of this is over with, I’ll have enough energy to mail out the Christmas cards I’ve been meaning to, or go for a half-run-mostly-walk, or…
… nah. I’ll probably sleep.
Have a good night, everyone.