I am functionally ill person. In some ways, having a cold is worse than having the flu. If you have the flu, people stay a million miles away from you while you sit in front of the TV and watch reruns of Saved by the Bell. When you have a cold, people actually expect you to buck up and do something. Yesterday, after the longest eight hour shift of my life, I came home and passed out on my bed, not to be moved for two hours.
After waking up, I walked downstairs meaning to clean the tornado we call a kitchen/living room. It took me so much energy to get down the stairs that I had to sit down on the couch and rest for a few minutes. Okay…another hour. Needless to say, I didn’t do any cleaning.
By some miracle, I dragged myself to the temple. It was a definite refresher from a gross/tissue filled day. I got back from the temple, only to throw myself on the couch with a quart of orange juice. Three minutes later, Mitch knocked on my door. Besides my family, there are precisely three boys who have seen me at a 10 on the gross scale. Last night, I was a high 9.
Congratulations Mitch, congratulations. May the image be burned in your mind forever.
That’s pretty much all I wanted to say.