Once in a while I have to play a little game with my brain called, “Sick, Exhausted, or Depressed?” because I have a hard time knowing the difference.
This game is EXACTLY as much fun as it sounds.
Turns out depression can look a lot like laziness, which sucks when you are, in fact, ALSO lazy. Spending my Saturday night differentiating my lethargies? AWESOME. *humming club beat*
Last week I went on vacation and stayed with a friend and her husband for part of the trip. My friend came down with a cold while I was there, and her lovely, amazing husband went out and brought her an assortment of cold meds, and when he realized he forgot something, went BACK out to get that as well.
So obviously now *I* have a cold, and I’m lookin’ around and it’s just me and Jesus in the house, and oddly, Jesus is shit at errands, so if I want drugs, I have to pull my 90-lb. skull off this pillow and go get them myself.
I see now that this is basically the ONLY reason to be in a relationship. A nice man is going to bring me wonton soup, but I don’t think he’s legally permitted to bring me Sudafed.
Right, then. So as soon as I get back from CVS, I’m gonna answer ALL the OkCupid messages, and hell, maybe sign up for Match, too.
“So, how did you two meet?”
“Well, it all began that day I needed a pharmacy minion…”
For the past few days I’ve been feeling like I may or may not have a cold. This is annoying, but I’m actually kind of impressed to learn I have commitment issues even with germs.
Or, depending on my self-esteem at any given moment and how fucked up you like your metaphors: “Damn, even GERMS don’t know my body is worth staying inside.”
I was going to say it sucks being sick when you’re single, because I want someone to bring me fuzzy socks and juice, but then I realized anyone I’d date would probably be at work right now. So I think I just need a monkey butler.
The bad news: I went home from work early yesterday thanks to overwhelming nausea, which may have been caused by any number of things, from medication to weather to stress, and it’s still lingering today.
The good news? A happy bonus of being a sexless spinster is that it’s damn sure not caused by pregnancy.
I’m still sick, and I’m definitely not saying I need a MAN to open this stuck jar of honey to put in my tea. But I AM saying I’d blow someone if they opened it, and men tend to be a little more receptive to that exchange rate.
The bad news is, I am sick as fuck.
The good news is, depending on the minute, I either sound like Sick Phoebe singing her sultry version of “Smelly Cat” on Friends, or like I could successfully supplement my income by taking a side gig as a phone sex operator. (Is phone sex even still a thing? Probably not. I’m behind the porn ball. No, wait… Ew… But I could totally bring it back. Like flannel shirts. Porny ones…)
Right. So clearly I should be keeping an eye on my temperature, because delirium is setting in.
I woke up sick, and literally the only thing getting me out of bed is the plans I had that provide higher-than-average odds for meeting and mingling with sexy nerd boys.
Thankfully no one I really want to hang out with would care if I do my hair and put on makeup — just a low-cut shirt should cover it. (Or not, I suppose is the point.)
I’ve been feeling like I might be getting sick for 4 days. So apparently I even have commitment issues when it comes to germs.
Smug Singleton 