Tuesday, August 10, 2010

The anatomy of my sympathy

someone: I'm sick, take care of me
me: have you taken anything for it?
someone: no, I don't have anything
me: no prob, Let me run to Walgreen's and get orange juice and chicken soup and medication.

the next day

someone: I'm sick, take care of me
me: did you take the medication I brought you?
someone: no, it was non-drowsy/night-time/cherry-flavored and I don't like that
me: oh... okay, let me go get something else

the next day

someone: I'm sick, take care of me
me: did you take the new medication?
someone: no, I forgot...
me: do you want to see a doctor?
someone: no...

the next day

someone: I'm sick, take care of me
me: I would like to take this moment to extend to you a formal invitation to shutthefuckup. Please RSVP at your earliest convenience.


The moral of the story is - I will be the best nursemaid ever, hands down. I will Florence Nightingale all over your ass, I will call in fifty favors and get Bono to hold a damn benefit for you, but my sympathy evaporates really quickly when it seems like you'd rather marinate in your virus and sickness and that icky feeling than take some steps to make yourself feel better. So basically - if y'all want to feel like shit, great, soak it up, wallow in it, start a Facebook page for it, but don't look for me to be holding a candlelight vigil at your bedside, I'll be doing something productive... like cleaning out my bellybutton lint or alphabetizing my spice rack.

Labels: I'm *not* an idiot