The art of being sick

My nose is running, my head aches, and I'm sneezing and coughing . Oh shit -- I'm getting sick. It's been a long time since I was sick; I can't even remember. When I was a kid my parents said I could only stay home if I had a fever or had thrown up. In seventh grade I discovered I could fake dizziness and they'd buy it; it was a nice little loophole in their stingy "fever/throwing up" policy. Thanks to that I stayed home more in junior high, watching Sports Center all day after I had the house to myself. I'd sleep in my parents room because they had a TV. There was nothing like the feeling of watching TV in bed and knowing your friends were sitting in classes. The only thing I feel guilty for is lying to my parents. Eventually I told them, probably when I was in high school. They were cool with it. You can be cool about some things you learn from the past, and that was one of them.

When you're sick it feels like the world stops, like nothing's happening. I remember being truly sick, watching the people on TV and being jealous of their health. You don't appreciate your health -- or anything at all -- until it's gone and you don't have it. The best thing about colds (maybe the only good thing besides getting to stay home if you feel too bad) is it doesn't last long; you're back to normal in a day or two. If I do have a maturing cold, at least I know I'll be better by Thursday or Friday, and I'll be able to do everything I want to. One of the things I liked most about getting better was feeling the rush of energy come back to your body. For a while you can't do much because you're ill and weak, but then your strength comes back and you feel like Superman ( yeah, yeah; I know what Dane Cook said about people who think they're Superman). Right now I'll have to feel more like Clark Kent. It's a facade I'm familiar with.

From now on I don't think I'll talk about chicks I want to talk to. I'm afraid once I get to know them they'll find the link to this blog on my Facebook profile and see I've written about them. They'll be able to tell, too (and I'm thinking of a certain person I wrote about last week). But maybe it's not as bad as I think it is. It's something I'll have to give some thought. Just so you know, though, I did talk to the cute mailroom girl. I did it today because I couldn't talk to her last Thursday or Friday. When we were talking I saw one of the IT guys scoot his chair across the entrance of his cubicle and look our way. I smiled (I'm smiling right now because I think it's hilarious).

I'm getting off work now. Time to run. Later.

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