I hate being sick because I believe being sick is for the weak. (No offense if you are the type of person who gets sick all the time, like my sister, sorry Andrea. LOVE YOU!) I believe that “sickness” is a mental state that one should try to overcome.
Don’t worry. I don’t actually hold others to this standard. It’s fine if other people get sick. Like for instance, if YOU get sick, I’ll probably be really nice and maybe even bring you stuff.
It’s just…I expect more from myself! And I’m fully aware it’s in a 13-year-old gymnast on her quest for the gold letting her coaches mentally abuse her type of way. Nevertheless, I have a hard time admitting I’m really sick.
But on Tuesday night I was legitimately sick. Sick enough that I admitted to myself I had to miss a black tie dinner for work. (I had my outfit all picked out and everything!) And who was the entertainment at this black tie event at the Grand American that I promised my boss I would go to then had to call him on his cell and leave a message telling him I couldn’t go then he had to call me back to say he couldn’t understand a word of my message? Who was the main event?
Yup, I wasn’t feeling any good vibrations, nor was I whisked away to Aruba, Jamaica, and baby we didn’t go to key largo, Montego, and I certainly wasn’t there to REPRESENT when they sang “California Girls.” Why? Because I was home sick, weakling that I am, watching American Idol. (I hate myself for watching that, I even voted…I LOVE YOU DAIVD C.!)
So anyway. This isn’t a pitty party. I just wanted to share that I COULD HAVE SEEN THE BEACH BOYS, even though I didn’t. But I could have.
On a brighter note, I consoled myself with one of my last cups of Postum (the jar is a quarter full) And! I did get to miss work yesterday! Eric made me french toast with whip cream and bananas! Which, I guess, is the next best thing to the Beach Boys.