There are certain instances in your life where you find yourself desperately reaching out for the comfort and stability of your parents. For me it is usually around the holidays (any and all holidays because they were always observed and celebrated at our house), when I am in a fight with friends, boyfriends, employers etc, or when you are deathly ill (like I am now).
Yes loyal readers I have gotten my first good taste of what I am going to name the So. Ill plague (black lung seemed inappropriate because lots of people around here legitimately have that, yeesh). I have been the epitome of perfect health up until this point and then out of the blue something came up from behind and just whacked me with a big old stick of sick. Eww. So now I am ill and desperately longing for the comforts of being sick at home. Now granted the Greene children were very rarely ill but when you were no expense was spared for your comfort or healthy recovery. There was loads of sleep, homemade chicken noodle soup, movie rentals and Daddy would make you a hot toddy that was spiked to the point that it caused an almost immediate honey/whiskey pass out. Those were the days.
Now that I am sick I am beginning to realize just how good I had it back on Planters Row. I realize that society widely mocks those who live with their parents past a certain acceptable age and there is an amazing amount of freedom and fun that comes with living on your own ( i.e. the ability to flail home at 3 am with no judgment and if you slip up and decide to order a Nacho Bell Grande the only one there to raise an eyebrow and subtly mention swim suit season is Henry) but is it worth it I ask?
Don't get me wrong Gus tries his hardest but he did not necessarily have the most warm and cuddly upbringing. When he was sick his Mamaw used to let him eat whatever he wanted because that is what she believed made you feel better. So when Gus is sick I just bring him tons of junk and he says it helps. I am entirely convinced that is psychosomatic and that if I was lying in a dark room hacking to death and someone brought me some cheesecake and potato wedges I would probably begin to vomit all over them. But not my boy, oh no he handles the junk and then rallies enough to watch Sport Center. It really is bizarre.
I don't know how I got sick, I pride myself in a diet rich in tons of essential vitamins and minerals and have an immune system I often brag about, but I think something got me that I was not prepared for - Allergies. Ugh. Now before you snicker like I would do if I were reading this and was you hear me out. I have never once before been affected by allergies, ever. I never needed any special shots or medicines and I always rolled my eyes and silently judged those who were so afflicted by the stupid little green pollen things all over the place. I don't have allergies. That is at least to Virginia pollen. But this Illinois pollen is a whole different breed. Literally an entirely different strain of tree sperm, and maybe my immune system missed the memo. Who could blame it? We scoff at allergies and the mamsy-pamsy symptoms associated with them, so why cave now? I am going to maintain that I just have a cold, and average run of the mill everyday cold that has nothing to do with seasons or trees or any of that crap. Deal?
Now what is that old rhyme mom used to tell me ... starve a fever and beer bong a cold? Just kidding except kind of not really I have a feeling that today I am going to pop an alavert, sit down with a glass of red wine and hopefully get drugged enough to make watching the NFL draft with Herman endurable, and if for some reason that does not do the trick I always have my handy bottle of NyQuil :)
Wish me a safe and speedy recovery loyal readers, me and my immune system shall try our hardest to divide and conquer!
