I remember getting colds as a child quite frequently. They involved really sore throats and lots and lots of tissues. This was before Puffs, too. You had to be made of stern stuff to wait out a cold. It seemed to last forever (like waiting for Christmas only not as good). And while everyone around you was sniffling and sneezing and wiping their noses on their sleeves, you were vainly trying to not get pink eye to compound the already grotesque stuff coming out of your face. But when I was a child someone cared if I was sick. Someone (read mom) gave me chicken soup, and read to me and allowed me to cuddle up in her lap and even nap in the afternoons. It's no wonder I was always staying home "sick". It was a great place to be. Safe and warm.
But I'm an adult now. I have 120 sick days accumulated because no one takes care of me anymore. I take care of myself and it just isn't as nice and warm as someone doing it for you. Trust me on this. I stayed home today and tried to veg out. But it didn't work. I realized that if I didn't empty the dishwasher, no one would. If I didn't make the bed no one would. And if I took a nap in the afternoon...I would be up until 3:00 in the morning and no better than I was this morning when I decided to make it 119 days. I miss that being tended to. No one does that for adults anymore. What would happen if we instituted the "Rent a mom" program and for a small fee you could have someone...a motherly type (oh, don't get all Gloria Steinham on me...you know what I mean) who would rub your head and feed you chicken soup. How much would you pay. Yeah, I wouldn't pay for that either. It sounds creepy writing it down, but i thought it had potential when I started. Oh, well. I'll just get another hot lemonade and watch some more old movies. Maybe it wasn't such a wasted day after all.
2 comments:
Take from this what you will, but I have no -- zero, zip, nada -- memories of being cuddled when I was sick. Those occasions must have been there, just didn't... stick. (Talk about wondering what your children will take away from their pasts...!)
But I do know what you mean. That eight-hour stretch -- "ALL DAY!" -- sort of sprawls ahead of you, beginning the second you place the "I won't be coming in today" phone call. Suddenly it's noon. And even more suddenly it's 4pm, and The End Is At Hand. I guess, of all ways to end a sick day, the ticking of the clock is by far NOT the worst outcome. But still, damn... how come work days don't evaporate that fast? :)
P.S. On some sick days, I'm close to incapacitated (by gout). This makes it much more likely that I'll actually lie around than load the dishwasher, etc. However, I don't recommend gout -- except as a lesson that, y'know, you really don't have to be doing stuff all the time. It may be that the TV remote control was invented by someone gout-afflicted. (Ditto the paperback book, for that matter.)
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