I’ve been spending a lot of time with this dog. He’s a good dog, endowed with a never-ending desire to cuddle and sleep–two things that I desperately needed this weekend while I was sick.
I don’t get sick. Ever. But the freshman papers I brought home last week were definitely disease-ridden, to the point where I think I should have microwaved them or something.
My process for dealing with a bad cold has three steps: adamant denial, total confusion, and gross indulgence.
Adamant Denial. This is the first day of the disgustingness. This is where I lie to myself and my husband, falsely convinced that no amount of snot can prevent me from cooking a mind-blowing dinner, re-organizing our bookshelves, folding all of the laundry, AND writing a brilliant seminar paper on James Joyce. Currently our kitchen smells like vinegar from the “brilliant” fruit fly trap I constructed in this whirlwind of denial. The flies, apparently, are more interested in drowning in our clogged sink.
Total Confusion. I never remember this stage. I sort of assume BJ chauffeurs me to drive-thrus and tucks me in at night. For which I am super thankful.
Gross Indulgence. This is the stage where I’m not truly sick anymore, but my brain hasn’t quite made the transition to normal, functioning human habits. And so I do absolutely nothing but blow air out of my nose into dry tissues and mope around purposelessly.
And that is what I’ve done today. I have been useless. It was wonderful. Totally useless…
(…except for posting this cute, vintage photo of my dog. Day redeemed.)