Thursday, March 23, 2006

For the longest time, I was a staunch proponent of the moping policy, which comprehensively outlines the best course of action for dealing with the flu. Its specifics are hard to understand, involute even for the most learned of folk, but it goes something like this: when you get sick, you retreat to bed and you stay your ass there until the symptoms subside.

I’ve jumped ship. Bedrest is fine and all, yet for minor sickness there’s a feeling of dirtiness from hibernating the whole day. Plowing into routine is another option, I think, and whether by a qualified miracle or sheer force of denial you sometimes recover in hours. It’s like your blood is replaced with pure antibiotics on command, and all the pathogens promptly perish as the penicillin pulses through your person. That was a nod to V for Vendetta, a pretty damn good flick.

There’s a high probability I’ll feel like shit again tomorrow, however, so I wish you good evening. A full night’s sleep? I’m still a fan. Dreams, too, take a sharp left down Awesome Street when that out-of-body achiness hits, as if you were the one person in the world to whom the secrets of flying were made clear.