Being sick is annoying for two reasons:
First, I’m the “healthiest” I’ve ever been in my life, so I was really hoping to get through the winter without a bad cold. Ahem. It’s autumn.
Secondly, I have no idea why they call it a “man cold”—I’m the single biggest baby in the world when I don’t feel good, and I’m a lady all over the place.
I can’t think for sh*t when I’m sick. As a writer, that’s bunk.
And when I’m sick I like people to do things for me.
I don’t want to cook, because I imagine my cooties getting all over the food. Gross. I don’t like to do the dishes for the same reason, and also because I don’t want to be wet when I’m sick.
Wet = cold, cold = bad when you’re sick.
I also don’t want to do those things because I don’t want to do anything besides lie in bed with a stock of tissues, a hot cup of tea on the night stand and my laptop tuned to Youtube, playing all X-Factor tryouts, all the time. I know. We all have our weaknesses, people.
It just so happens, however, that I got this bug on the eve of my man’s departure to Switzerland on work-related business.
Boo, I say. Boo.
Since I have to do the dishes, make the meals, make the tea and make the bed (and get out of it), I’ve decided that somebody else is going to have to do the deep thinking for purposes of this post.
If you haven’t already, please meet Andrea Gibson (a.k.a. Andrew Gibby).
Her words are more magical than any I’ve ever written or could ever hope to write. I have yet to hear her rant for more than a minute without tears of rage, empowerment, joy, excitement or somesuch other inexplicably powerful human emotion coming to my eyes and quite often flowing over in their droves.
She’s so freaking awesome, she has her own Wikipedia page.
Incidentally, she’s also on tour.
Enjoy, and do say yes.
Editor: Lynn Hasselberger
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