You know what the Seahawks did to the Broncos yesterday? That’s what a flu bug is currently doing to me. [Just don’t call me “Manning”…]
I think the working world refers to this as a “sick day.” However, I’m employed part-time and don’t work Mondays, so it’s basically an extended weekend for me. Except most weekends I’m not lying in bed surrounded by Kleenex and half-empty cups of diet ginger ale.
I suppose I could make this a productive post, and share my “expert tips” on how to defeat the common flu bug. But seeing as how I got a flu shot back in October and practice a highly sanitized (some might say “obsessive hypochondriac”) lifestyle, I’m not an expert on disease prevention. My advice would go something like this:
- Don’t lick toilets, doorknobs, or your keyboard.
- Don’t eat food that has green fuzz growing out of it.
- Stay 20 feet away from sick people at all times. Do not let the buffer-zone be compromised.
You know, just the basics.
But really, I just wanted to check in and let my imaginary internet friends know that I’m alive. Well, alive and scraping rock bottom, apparently. For starters, I’m wearing onesie pj’s all day and not in an ironic way.
Yoga pants would practically be considered black tie apparel compared to this. I’ve spent more time in bed this weekend than I had the whole past week, and let’s not even talk about my pitiful attempt to get in a workout yesterday. (The only workout I got was cardio from running back and forth to grab kleenex from the bathroom.) Between the fact that my entire body is throbbing and my lower back is jacked from my attempts at conventional deadlifts last week (never cheating on by beloved Trap-bar again…), I currently have all the grace of an three-legged moose ,and none of the swagger. My nose is raw and red enough to give Rudolph a run for his money, and the closest I’ve gotten to putting on makeup is slathering vaseline on my poor schnoz. I’ve been subsisting on homemade sorbets and veggie soup, and more Gossip Girl reruns have been watched than any self-respecting person should admit.
The worst part is trying to breathe normally, since everything north of my bellybutton is congested. When I try to eat anything, I have to take teeeny-weeny bites and chew with my mouth open. It’s so classy. Sleeping is a challenge, since I can’t breathe well through any of the holes in my face and I end up lying there panting like an asthmatic pug…that is, until I wake up in a puddle of drool. (It’s such an ego killer, too. I never drool when I sleep; it’s actually my few feminine qualities that requires absolutely no effort. So waking up covered in my own slobber is sincerely traumatic. And I’m really sorry that I just overshared like that.)
In other words, I’m a
Except not hot, and with constant chills and shivering, actually. But you know what I mean.
On the bright side, I’m being forced to slow down, sit back, and rest. That’s actually so rare that I have to be grateful for the times when a little flu bug forces me to put it into practice. And I’m reminded of how blessed I am that this little thing is the worst of my health problems, when so many people are facing challenges that are 100x worse. We have it so good, yall. So dang good.
Anyway, it’s about time for me to get a refill on my sorbet and turn my humidifier up to full blast…
Count your blessings, wash your hands, take your vitamins, and come back tomorrow for a little bit of Bachelor recapping action. I may even throw a vlog out there (yep, red nose and pug-breathing and all).