followed by… Physical Health Week

I’m sick again. Dammit all to hell.

Those of you who know me (or who spend any time at all reading my blog) already know that of the things I do poorly, being sick is probably in the top ten. I am a REALLY bad sick person. I whine and moan and lie on the sofa making pitiful little “I’m sick. Why? Why me?” faces and in general wallow in it.

Then I resent the fact that I wallow in it and begin having very strong feelings about the little micro-fuckwad-organisms that got me in this situation in the first place. Nothing like placing the blame on someone else. (cf. June blog, the last time I was sick). Then I get really angry and make lists of all the things I could have been accomplishing had I not had my unfortunate little encounter with the micro-fuckwad-organism that i am *so* going to slam into dust as soon as I get this prescription filled. (Hear that, you thousands of squirmy, smarmy little bastards? I’m coming for you. Your apocalypse is nigh. Get praying.)

Let’s just put it this way. I only like active cultures in yogurt, penicillin, and anthropology. Everything else can just bugger off.

I read once that positive visualization is often very helpful for sick people. They imagine the medicine helping them and it actually helps more. Well, as a writer with an overactive imagination I am picturing a veritable ARMY of antibodies, white blood cells and antibiotics kicking the shit out of the interlopers. We’re talking D-Day. We’re talking scorched earth. We’re talking weapons of mass destruction.

Some people like to think of their bodies as a temple. I prefer to regard mine as a police state.