I think we can all collectively agree that nobody likes being sick. It isn’t the way it was in elementary school when you got to stay home with dad, watch Nickelodeon, and eat Campbell’s all day. Instead you have to take care of yourself, figure out how much sick time you have thanks to carelessly using one or two days when you were massively hungover, and hope that your roommate didn’t suck down all of the NyQuil when he was going through an insomnia phase.
But there’s something about being sick when it’s gorgeous outside that’s particularly unbearable. It feels wrong. And not just because you currently feel like you’ve been run over by a truck. It feels like the universe is against you. Summer is a time for where you should be running around with a four o’clock beer your hand, not a time where you need a nap at 1 p.m. because all of your energy was expended trying to not throw up on your morning commute.
Sunlight sucks when you have a headache.
The reason we get colds in the winter is because evolution knew that the best time to feel like your brain was going to explode was when it was permanently overcast so the sunshine didn’t make it worse. I’m not wearing my sunglasses inside because I enjoy looking like a douchebag, I’m wearing them because the natural light everyone else is gushing about is causing my temples to feel like they’re being sawed open by an amateur lumberjack.
You’re bored AF.
Committing to a Netflix and constant snacking day when you’re healthy is one thing, and it’s a truly beautiful way to spend a Sunday every now and then. But when you’re sick, it just sucks. You can’t lie on one side to watch another episode of Bloodline for too long because then that side of your face will be a total, congested mess. Getting up to make another Emergen-C shot feels like exercise and makes your sinuses scream at you. And unless you have a significant other who has no choice but to love you even though you haven’t showered in 3 days and your vocal chords sound like they were attacked by cats, no one wants to hang out with your sickly, sickly self.
No one wants soup when it’s 94 degrees out.
Your heart wants what it wants, but it just feels gross. When you should be craving ceviche and crisp salads and spiked lemonade, all you want is the soup your mom used to make when you were too sick to go to school. But does downing a heaping cup full of chicken and dumplings sound at all appetizing when you’re also sweating balls on your couch? No, no it does not.
Your body temp is all over the place making it impossible to get comfy.
Cold sweats come over you so you crawl under a down comforter. Ten seconds later your AC turns off and your body temp spikes back up and you feel like you’re stuck in a sauna. It’s too hot for sweatpants, but if you just go to bed in just boxers, you’re freezing. You don’t want to go outside because your fever is making you sweat more than normal, so you’re just kind of stuck in a glass case of emotion, whining about awful you feel.
It makes your social life next to nothing.
Your friends are all out, brunching somewhere with outdoor seating, and you’re stuck in your apartment coughing up blobs that look like the cartoons from the Mucinex commercial all day. You agree to go to the beach to drink Slurpees next to the fire-pit and watch the sunset only to find yourself as the only asshole there in long sleeves and a beanie, shivering even though it’s barely dipped below 75 degrees. No one wants to hit on the girl constantly sniffling at the bar, and no one wants to be the one at the bar asking if they have tea. So you have to stay inside and ride it out, and that means you get to see all of the group Instagrams your friends post and feel some serious FOMO. .
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