In Which I Lament That, If It Is Not, In Fact, All About Me, Then Dammit, It Should Be

How is this happening? It is a gorgeous weekend here in northeastern Ohio. The sun is warm and the temperature is in the mid-seventies. There is no rain. Beyond the borders of my small, midwestern town, the world continues to move on and events occur, one tumbling after another. Even my mother is on a little vacation.

What is wrong with you people? Don't you know that I AM SICK?!

Geeze. Where is the love?

It's not bad enough that last weekend, when Jared came home for a brief visit, that I had the raging PMS. No. (And, hey, when can I expect all that bullshit to stop, anyway? I'm 49; I mean, come on, already.) Here is a brief snippet of the Quality Time I had with my son:

Me: Holy Crap! I have the dreaded PMS so bad, and it's in the Carbohydrate Loading stage. It's making me absolutely nuts.

Jared: Are you all, like, "I'm gonna eat this whole loaf of bread right now, and then get really, really crabby afterward", or what?

Me: More like, "If you don't give me that bag of Lay's Original, I'm blowing your effing head off."

Jared: Wow. Yikes.

But I digress.

So, last week the ice man cameth and naturally, so did the Practice Ohio Graduation Test, which I had to administer for four days to three of my classes who, throughout the duration, sounded like the Infectious Diseases Ward at the Cleveland Clinic. It was like a frikkin' symphony of coughs, sniffles, and snortles. I was horrified, in light of the fact that my shoulder condition has an auto-immune component, which means I'm walking around with a somewhat compromised immunity. (Oh, did you employ the Hand Sanitizer? you might ask. It is to laugh! I did everything short of wear a surgical mask and gloves and garlic necklace!)

To no avail. I have a beastly headcold. Damn them all. My nose is running like a car thief on "Cops." My temples are pounding. Sudafed? Ha! Might as well eat M&M's, except that I have zero appetite. My nose is chappy and sore, but at least it matches my lips! Now would be the time for me to eat some of my wonderful Curry Chicken Soup that I so wisely froze in small containers...but I gave the last of it away to Jared and my colleague Andrew, who shares my classroom and is...SICK WITH A HEADCOLD! A HA!!!!!

In the meantime--while I plot my revenge on them all--I wander about the house in misery.

How can everyone else in the entire world be well and happy and carefree? I AM SICK! IT'S SO UNFAIR!

I carry around a box of Kleenex anti-viral tissues and a plastic bag full of snotty wads.

It makes me feel like those dog-walkers who have to follow their canines with plastic sacks full of their doggy poop. How demeaning!

And why is it, that when you feel least able to deal with it, your body decides to manufacture eleventy hundred gallons of snot a day? Huh?

How come there isn't a shot for this? Why can't I just take a pill and have it go away in, say, a day or two? I suspect a Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy. I do.

Dammit. I hate being sick.