I’ve got all those awesome symptoms: Nasal congestion. Fever. Chills. Exhaustion. Sore throat. It’s the plague. At any given moment, a man in a funky mask and a black cloak is just going to appear in my bedroom and tell me it’s time to leave.
And everybody’s got their own remedy. “Drink plenty of fluids!” “Here’s my recipe for plague-destroying chicken soup!” “Rest, rest, rest!!”
And of course there are lovely blog posts everywhere that tell you how to beat this year’s demons. And to get the flu shot to avoid any of that bullmess.
Me? I avoid the flu shot. I got one once and you know what happened? I was sick for three days. I am a magnet for illness. I swear that crap is already in me once the flu vaccine is available, so I stay away from that crap.
And there are the folks who swear up and down that the body will heal itslf – but every time I try and let the body heal itself, real life usually calls in the form of a steady paycheck. “Uh…so, uh, Bellesouth…are you going to go to the doctor? We kinda need you here back at the office and stuff.”
Anyway, I’m suffering this black evil deathplague of doom right now, I have a doctor’s appointment and I’m seriously considering skipping it because of that whole “the body will heal itself” thing, in addition to the whole “$20 copay” and the whole “pharmacy copay” thing.
But it’s just tough. When you wan those creepy-crawlies to just leave your body, and the doctor tempts you with antibiotics.
I think I’m just gonna have some more cayenne-and-garlic-infused chicken soup and go back to bed. Screw you, doctor. Wantin’ my money and stuff.
Oh wait – how about that Jack Bauer last night? Is everyone else as excited as me that 24 is coming back in January? Crap, I can’t die yet. I’ve gotta see what happens to Jack Bauer.