I've been sick for the past few weeks. All the germs in the world somehow managed to gather akin to the World Economic Forum, or the Olympics, and started having fun with themselves doing synchronized swimming inside my system.
I don't get seven kinds of flu and cold very often, but when I do I'm usually brought to my knees in manner of repentant crimelords in the movies. This has been one of the worst. Although I wonder whether it is the flu and the coughing and the headaches and the stuffy nose that had me totally whacked for a few weeks or is it the sad fact that I'm mostly alone during my time of sickness. It's not that I want family and friends to be waiting at my beck and call all the time, bringing my Panadols and lozenges at my slightest cough. I've always prided myself in being able to take care of myself. Hmm. That statement doesn't really fit the constant state of mess that is my apartment, though.
Being reduced to an unrelenting fountain of mucous (eeuuu!) and drowning inside my own sea of used tissue, I keep thinking it would just be so nice to have someone I know around. It would be nice to be distracted once in a while from my own suffering, because when you're alone and you're sick, all that you can think of is that you're alone and you're sick, which is not really helping the situation. Everything else doesn't really register in the brain department, especially when I'm loaded with painkillers and antibiotics. As I made a shaky attempt to prepare a somewhat proper lunch I couldn't help thinking how nice it would be to have someone else to help to just open this bloody jar of strawberry jam.
I'm getting better now. I can walk in a straight line for most of the time. The demons of flu are ready to depart and go haunt someone else. But I'm left with an unsettling feeling of loneliness. More than ever before. No, I don't miss my flu bug. I'm just beginning to reconsider whether living alone is really the way to live. It's a wonderful thing to have your own place. You can take baths as long and as often as you like. You can watch TV in comfortable mannerless positions. You can pretend to be doing synchronized swimming with your imaginary partner (though this, is bordering sanity). There's no one to bug you or to tell you to stop doing whatever it is you're doing. No guilt when you haven't done the dishes.
But it gets tired after a while. You begin to lose sense of reality when faced with the same walls and same kitchen appliances day after day. Trying to talk to them is not exactly a step towards improvement, either.
Maybe I'm complaining too much. Maybe I'm having too much time with myself. Maybe I should go down the streets and start offering kindness to strangers so the world can see what wonderful and beautiful person I am.
Nah. Too hard. I'll play one more game of Freecell then go watch the Olympics on TV.