One Flu Over the Cuckoo’s Sickbed

Well, I am out of quarantine and back to work and life, which apparently is defined as a shit ton of email. Because really, that is all that I have been doing since getting back- reading and answering mounds of emails. Is this really what my life consists of? That I could drop off the face of the earth for a week and then come back and really not anything needs attention other than frickety frackety emails? Yes, that’s exactly what it means.

It turns out that Nordic Boy and I both had the flu. Not the bubonic plague, as we both were convinced we had. The doctor said that most people don’t really get the flu very often, but that people get bad colds and call it the flu. So then when they really do get the flu, it feels like they are dying. Which, YES, it does feel that way. I guess I have never really had the flu before, for realsies, because dang! That was not a joke.

That said, if you do have to have the flu, I suggest having it with a friend. I am sorry that Nordic Boy was sick too, but not that sorry, because it was eons better having him home with me every day. Watching the Hallmark Channel is so much better with one’s homie right there. Whining was better. Napping was better. Cursing the unknown rube who gave us this bug was better.

Not only did we have the flu together, but we did something we have never done before- we went to a doctor’s appointment together. I mean, we have accompanied each other to the doctor before, but this time, we actually had an appointment together. Like at the same time. Now that is taking joined-at-the-hipness to a whole new level. But again, it was more fun, especially when our regular doctor wasn’t working that day and so we got another random dude and he walked in and totally looked like Dwight Schrute. Infinitely more entertaining to have Dr. Shrute with a pal there to see it too.

Now I am better although I really don’t feel like eating anything which sucks because food is awesome. And surviving on water and cough drops makes me feel sort of stoned all the time, which is probably not the best state to be in when answering three thousand emails.

While I am on the subject of being sick, I feel like I have noticed that there seems to be a breaking down of societal rules around sharing details of illness during small talk. Have you noticed this? People have shared with me, in response to a question like “I heard you were sick- are you feeling better?” all sorts of bodily details about what has emanated out of their various holes and what sort of rashes they have where and all like that. Am I being a fuddy duddy to think that perhaps there needs to be a bit more of a filter on some of that talk? I even saw a Facebook status update where a person I know from middle school broadcasted the color and consistency of his mucus production. Come on, people. I am asking officials to call that out of bounds. Let’s have some decorum, shall we?

Maybe I am not the person who should be the arbiter of such matters though. After all, I am the one that coined the term “erectionate” to denote when a person feels sexy affection for another person, so I am not the best judge of appropriateness I guess.

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