Pride goes before a fall, and so here I sit with the formerly mocked and now grudgingly respected swine flu. Phrases like “Oh, I’ll be fine tomorrow” and “I’m feeling better already” ring in my already ringing ears and have fallen on deaf ears.
Yesterday I scoffed when a slight headache,fever, fatigue, and annoying cough seemed to be the worst I would get. I laughed at the fearmongers who proclaimed that this epidemic would be the worst the world has ever seen. I was wrong, oh so wrong.
I would kill to leave the house, so I stumbled outside to let my increasingly corpulent dog do her business. When mommy and daddy are not paying attention, life is a never-ending all-you-can-eat buffet of trash cans and compost buckets, of half-eaten bowls of soup and unchaperoned Subway sandwiches.
So here I sit, with the flu besting my best efforts and a fat, lazy dog.
Booo, lame, dislike.
(Would it be selfish to pray that I get better so I can go to the fair on Thursday night?)