Et flu Brutus?

I started the new year lying in bed surrounded in bodily flueds and tissues. This could mean I started the new year in a very entertaining way you readers really do not want to have a mental picture of, but unfortunately I had the flu.

I always get the flu at least twice every year, and although I'm hoping that because this time it fell on two years it'll count double I'm doubting it. Flu epedemics are, because I always get it someway or another, extremely fascinating to me: I'm either always getting sick before the big tidal wave of germs reaches the country (which makes me feel special and sorry for spreading it further) or I get sick right around the point the epedemic is over and everybody is already back on their feet (which makes me feel like murdering relatives and friends who had the flu before me). Either way, it sucks.

Being sick used to be fun however. In the olden days (when people still said 'ye', like in ehm... 'ye olden days'?) being sick meant you had to stay home. Staying home meant you did not have to go to school. School, even if you didn't completely despise it, was evil. So the flu was basically a way of getting some extra vacation days. It also meant my mom had to be even nicer to me than she usually is and not complain that my room was always a mess (I have the saddest "Mom, I'm sick" eyes I tell you).

Sure, it included sweating, and coughing, and having slime smeared all over your face and, after a few days, smelling like a corpse. Sure, you missed stuff at school that you would later have to redo faster than everybody else. But all of that was acceptable suffering! My body and the germs made a very simple deal: you guys can play around a little as long as you don't kill me, and I'll relax for a few days. Everybody was happy (perhaps excluding my mom who had to take days off from work, but you know, there's casualties in every war).

Nowadays flu is my enemy. First of all, I don't live at home anymore and for some reason my mom will not bring tea and liquorice to my bed anymore when I have a sore throat (it's only 30 minutes by car, geez). Also, I have to go out and hunt down my own food and then serve it myself too. Sure, the closest supermarket is 2 minutes from my house and I have an oven and a microwave, but come on!

More importantly, I don't have time to be sick! There are papers to write! Books to read! Other people's papers to read! Teachers to email! And even when none of that is happening, there's more fun things to do! Hang out with friends! Go to the movies!

Is there a solution? No.

Is it usefull to complain about it? No.

Am I going to continue boring people with it?

Honestly, have we met?