I'm Sick

I’m sick, like I have a temperature, sick. I have a hacking cough, that is how it started yesterday. I have been sick for two days and in bed today, desperately trying to feel better for work on Tuesday. Why do we try to get better for work on Tuesday? Quite frankly, they should be processing my day off as a sick day?

I’m in bed, wrapped up in my doona, like I have to keep warm like my life depends on it. I’m really hot, but the heat is somehow comforting. I’m toasting under this doona, so much so that the bedroom stinks of sweat.

Sam accuses me of being Pig-Pen.

“POOH… OO!”

(Is it the stench of immanent death, I wonder?)

“I don’t have the energy to fart…”

“It must be leaking.”

“It’s not.”

“You just don’t know.”

“I’d know.”

“You stink.”

“Your bedside manner leaves a little to be desired,” I croak.

(Even if he is cooking the third thing he suggested for dinner without a complaint)

“Stir-fried noodles with prawns?”

“No.”

“Zucchini pasta?”

“No… I don’t want anything.”

“Conjee?”

“Oh… yes… I could eat conjee.”

I get cold really easily, like when I go to the toilet, or whatever reason I get out of bed. I can feel the chill of my core really easily and I scamper back to bed.

I feel like shit, hot with no energy. The burning, somehow is comforting, compared to the cold.

Boo hoo!