Iím useless. Iím lazy. Iím tired. Iím cranky. I hate the world. I hate my life. Things suck.
Am I depressed? Sort of. Iím sick.
Have you ever realized how your outlook on, well, everything changes when you have a cold or the flu?
You canít do anything, but mostly you donít want to do anything. You want a servant to do things for you and bring things to you.
I need another glass of orange juice. I need the bathtub filled nice and hot. I need someone to get the mail.
These are all things weíre capable of but for some reason when weíre sick these tasks seem impossible.
Iím the only human in my house. The dogs knows somethingís up. They're wondering why weíre sleeping downstairs on the living room floor. Why are we sleeping until noon? Why havenít we gone for three walks today?
The phone rings and I do the ďpoor me, Iím sickĒ thing and pretend Iím dying to get sympathy from the caller. Maybe I embellish the coughs and sniffles for effect. Bottom line: Iím sick and nobody has any idea what Iím going through because nobodyís ever been this sick before, right?
As the hours pass and I lay in a self-induced NyQuil coma and reflect on how bad things really are, I lose sense (and consciousness) of the reality of life.
Funny, just a few days ago life was great and I couldnít complain. A nasty cold comes around and the whole outlook on life changes.
OK, maybe things arenít as bad as they seem. One friend said, ďHey, at least itís not H1N1.Ē So I have to put it all into perspective. Being sick gives us a green light to grumble about things and be miserable and itís all good because thatís what people expect from us.
And, in just a few short days Iíll be back to my cynical and sarcastic self. Well, maybe Iím slowly easing back into that already.