Tuesday morning I woke up with a kind of sore throat. No big deal, I thought, I'll drink some tea and I'll be fine. Cut to four days later, and this is the first time I've ventured from my apartment for more than a few minutes.
The sore throat turned into a big deal. By Wednesday morning sore throat had recruited it's friends congestion, soreness, and exhaustion. Thankfully I did not have work scheduled for this week, so I was able to spend the entirety of my illness on my couch. Watching Pushing Daisies and My Boys.
It was actually a pretty nice week, besides feeling like crap. But it was nice to have an excuse to just lay around all day. It's not like I don't ever do that, but at the end of the day I usually end up feeling guilty that I haven't gotten anything accomplished with my free time. But when you're sick, no one expects you to be productive with your time. Most people would actually prefer that you stay at home rather than spread your illness to the general population.
It's pretty great freedom. Sleeping and drinking tea and watching TV. And people checking in to make sure you're feeling any better. So what I haven't seen outside in 40 hours? Every part of me aches when I move, so why do it?
Only problem with 3 full days of laying around, feeling icky? The boredom. Once you watch that Netflix disk of My Boys and finish that season of Pushing Daisies, TV really loses its powers of distraction. Read a magazine? Already looked through it three times. Book? Haven't been to the library in weeks, and can't muster the energy right now. I guess I'll just take another nap.
So when on Friday you finally wake up with the ability to breathe through your nose and it doesn't feel like swallowing razors to talk, it's so much better than feeling better. You're ecstatic at the prospect of being able to get out of the apartment! See sunshine, and friends, and maybe even do a little cleaning!
