That God Forsaken Flu.
When people ask me what I was up to during the weekend and I reply “drinking,” why is that most people just assume it’s all about alcohol and getting down a flight of stairs without using your legs? Drinking could mean a lot of things; for instance you could be drinking apple juice or just be chilling out carrying a bottle of coke. You could also be drinking milk in the morning or even sorbet of some sort that your friend made but was so bad that you pretended to drink and gave the rest to a cat in the street who nearly chocked to death. Its absolute bollocks that people make such a mess of a verb that’s fundamental to us as eating.
Hmmm...in that note it would be interesting to see how people react when you just give them an “I was eating” answer, isn’t it? Where were you eating, who were you eating with, did you cook? WHAT were you EATING!??, or you ate without ME? All these myriad of questions tied to a single word but then you tell them you were drinking without even adding “last night” and then they look at you with that sly smile and nod their heads as if they had simply heard enough.
FYI I was drinking hot water sprinkled with salt and some turmeric. That was what was happening, honestly. I should have just gone on to take that flu injection. I did make up my mind to do so but the health center started sending those “it’s the last day guys!” waayyy too much that I started doubting if it was worth what they were stating it to be. Maybe it’s just me being cynical but desperate emails calls for not so desperate effort. Especially if it means dragging my ass all the way upto the student center, taking out my wallet, paying, then waiting just to get injected with a tiny dose of flu which aids my cells into building anti-bodies.
I did rather just open my mouth when somebody’s sneezes, get the flu and fight that off to build the defense system my body needs instead of doing so. I hear you need to give your cells the proper rest they need to be able to do so and if by that it means the use of the verb “sleeping” then that’s an entirely different story.
Having had just bought a brand new sofa bed, I was really looking forward to good night sleep. Until I realized that the sofa bed’s structure wants a piece of my body for exchange too. Why would you even design a sofa bed if you can’t sleep on it? As engineers and designers, we always ponder on the question of whether the product we are developing does the job it is required to do. If not, its total failure. And here I was sleeping on top of something that reminded me of that time when I spent the whole night on top of a football post just because I was too afraid to get down.
I had small balls then. I mean both literally and metamorphically.
So now every time I wake up to say hello world to my ceiling, I feel way lot shittier than the night before. Somebody expressed that that’s the way it is in graduate school; you are supposed to feel a lot shittier the next day and mind you if that’s the case, imagine the unimaginable shittiness I have to endure every morning.
I mean the sofa bed.