When your Body is a Temple Plagued by Pestilence
I’ve been sick for a couple days now. It’s one of those great sicknesses where you are able to continue doing everything you normally do, but still feel like you have a weekend-worth of rum-filled-karaoke lodged in your throat. It’s interesting the way my brain takes over and starts a yes/no column for everything I do. I CAN definitely still drink, but I definitely CAN’T have any dairy products. I CAN take my dog for a run and rake the yard, but I CAN’T wash or dry the dishes. I CAN go rock climbing, but I CAN’T do any water sports. I’m sure I had reasons for all of these “When Jordan is Sick” rules, but I lost them sometime long ago (perhaps because I CAN’T write anything down when I’m sick…okay, that one isn’t real).
The unfortunate truth is that the best way to get healthy is to see a witch doctor…or get meds from I regular doctor, I guess. I have a deep-rooted dislike for a doctor as the middle-man for meds that I want without paying their fees. So, for now, I’m going to drink water, take Emergen-C and later Nyquil, then go to sleep and dream about Osmosis Jones fighting the good fight.
A guy with a blog…whose name is also Jordan