I’m useless. I’m lazy. I’m tired. I’m cranky. I hate the world. I hate my life. Things suck.
Am I depressed? Sort of. I’m sick.
Have you ever realized how your outlook on, well, everything changes when you have a cold or the flu?
You can’t do anything, but mostly you don’t 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 we’re capable of but for some reason when we’re sick these tasks seem impossible.
I’m the only human in my house. The dogs knows something’s up. They’re wondering why we’re sleeping downstairs on the living room floor. Why are we sleeping until noon? Why haven’t we gone for three walks today?
The phone rings and I do the “poor me, I’m sick” thing and pretend I’m dying to get sympathy from the caller. Maybe I embellish the coughs and sniffles for effect. Bottom line: I’m sick and nobody has any idea what I’m going through because nobody’s 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 couldn’t complain. A nasty cold comes around and the whole outlook on life changes.
OK, maybe things aren’t as bad as they seem. One friend said, “Hey, at least it’s not H1N1.” So I have to put it all into perspective. Being sick gives us a green light to grumble about things and be miserable and it’s all good because that’s what people expect from us.
And, in just a few short days I’ll be back to my cynical and sarcastic self. Well, maybe I’m slowly easing back into that already.