Technically, I still have the flu. I probably shouldn't be at work, but then again, I probably shouldn't be typing a blog post at work either. Maybe I should flip that...I shouldn't be typing a blog post at work, but for fuck's sake, I have the flu and shouldn't even be at work anyway, so keep calm and carry on! That's better. You feel more sympathy for me that way, right?
In all seriousness, and I'm saying this as a white twenty-three-year-old male in America (with health insurance), getting the flu isn't that bad. Sure, when my fever picks up, I truly feel as if I could die at any minute. When I cough, I consider calling a local priest, because there is no mistaking the sensation of a demon trying to escape my chest through my nasal cavity.
I had to miss an entire weekend's worth of Comedy Walking and beer gear selling, and I've had to attempt to stay on top of my schoolwork. But as the dust and the phlegm seem to settle, I have to admit it was nice taking a little bit of a breather...even if I could barely breathe.
No one told me that it got really hot outside while I was trapped inside. Like, instantly-sweating-upon-leaving-the-apartment hot. Thanks a lot for taking away spring, climate change. The last thing a guy with the flu needs, after finally deciding to go back to work, is to be dehydrated. It's a good thing I work next to a bar. Or maybe it's a worse thing that I work next to a bar, a bar stocked with over 150 imported bottles of delicious dehydration. Well, shit. Now I'm thirsty.
Is it sad that I feel healthier because I've gone so long without drinking? Like, yeah, okay, I have a virus, but my liver must be doing better than ever! But maybe I'm just one of those really optimistic, glass-is-half-full, people you hear about so often and yet never seem to encounter in person. But I can't wait to start drinking again!
Anyway, you should probably come see me on the Comedy Walk this weekend.