I hate being sick.
I hate it with a passion that cannot be sated. I really do. There is just no fun in being hot and sweaty on minute and then so cold that your teeth are chattering the next. I was freakin' sick yesterday, so I stayed home from work. No sense in spreading my germs around to other people. I couldn't have even lasted for more than 15 minutes at work anyway. But, I will spare you the nasty details of my bout with the flu. You can thank me later.
For me, being sick is a personal thing. I don't like people to see me all hunched over the toilet, sweating and coughing and all that jazz. I mean, how embarassing! I like to be left alone. I don't want people waiting on me or hanging around and asking how I feel. Not that I don't appreciate people for keeping me in their thoughts or anything. I just don't like people making a big fuss over me. I like to be sick alone. But yesterday, I almost caved in and called my mom to bring me some 7-Up. I was thisclose to doing it, but I relented. I ended up putting on some sweats, putting my hair up in a ponytail and put some sunglasses on and went to Vons to get me some myself.
I know. I am an idiot.
I just knew that if I had called my mom, she would be calling me like every hour to see how I was doing. Not that that is a bad thing. I was just tired and wanted to sleep. And I know my mom gets worried and there is no sense in making her worry when it was just a 24 hour bug.
Still, I appreciate people who will take the time out of their day to lend a hand when needed, and I know my mom is one of those people. Both my parents are. You can always rely on them in a pinch. And I am very grateful for that.
I know, I took a walk on the sappy side today, but I am still feeling a little weak and blah, so cut me some slack, Jack. I will be back to my usual cranky, road-raging, bitchy state soon.
I promise.
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