Sick Sad World

Sick Sad World

Remember that show from Daria?

I am sick. I don’t know what I have. Yes, I had a flu shot. No, it’s not a norovirus. There’s nothing being expelled. I don’t have any sinus issues or headaches. I feel slightly warm, and my body aches and I feel completely exhausted by the littlest things.

No, I’m not hungover. The last time I drank alcohol was like? What? Five weeks ago? A glass of icky red wine I didn’t finish. It’s not a fucking hangover.

I’m just so tired. This morning while trying to get the slowest eight-year-old in North America out the damn door for school, I was breathing heavily, like I was in labor or finishing a mile sprint. The husband, damn him, said my breathing sounded like ‘theater’ and told me stop.

So I held my breath until he left. Then I exhaled and collapsed on the couch.

No, I’m not pregnant. Bite your tongue with that blasphemy! God. My womb is a Use Once & Destroy organ.

Even I can’t understand these symptoms. I got up, poured another cup of coffee. Willed myself to get going. Cleaned up the kitchen, filled the dishwasher. But the ‘theatrical’ breathing came back. So I took some ibuprofen for my aching back and now I’m on the sofa, again.

I hate everything’s guts.

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