Bandwagon of Colds
Apparently, I joined the bandwagon of colds. My mom had a sore throat, sore enough to seek medical attention, while she and Dad were staying with us. About six days later, Wes got a sore throat. Ms. Never Gets Sick avoided them as much as possible in our little cottage.
Most of you know that I rarely get sick, but when I do, I have impeccable timing. The day my parents leave, Wes and I head to Atlanta for a cousin's funeral, and what's that? I have a tickle in my throat, more irritating than anything else, but it's there. "It's nothing," I tell myself, but apparently, myself doesn't listen. Five days later, I had a severely sore throat and the sniffles. Well, that just won't do, so I go to the walk-in clinic, where you can almost see the germs circulating while listening to people's grossly loud, annoying cell phones ring. Apparently, they didn't get the memo that you should put them on vibrate or turn them off in small, enclosed spaces. Whatev! But that's not as bad as the people who answer them by practically screaming into the phone and then sharing way too much personal information with me. Hello? With me? I try to avoid personal info from friends . . .
Anyway, we go to Visitation in Atlanta; then Wes heads home, and I stay for the funeral. He had a photo shoot that couldn't be rescheduled since it was a grand opening. By the way, I can't wait to see our fabulous new student union with Starburcks. (Imagine the angels singing right now 'cause they are in my head--my snotty, congested head.) Visitation and funerals make me cry--or make me fight tears, neither of which works well for fighting a cold. Anyway, I lose. It wins. I go to the clinic, get a shot, but really have to wait it out.
And here's more of the impeccable timing: yep, it's the first week of classes. My students are never going to believe that I'm not one of those sickly professors who cancels class every two weeks. They'll be anticipating that sign on the door, and it will never be there. They'll feel betrayed, and I won't understand the suddenly harsh student evaluations. (By the way, one of the comments this year was "Dr. Sewell is a ham." Really? Does that sound like me? I think not. It made me laugh, though.)
Anyway, I joined the wrong bandwagon this year. Next time people in my house get sick, I'm moving to a hotel.
Most of you know that I rarely get sick, but when I do, I have impeccable timing. The day my parents leave, Wes and I head to Atlanta for a cousin's funeral, and what's that? I have a tickle in my throat, more irritating than anything else, but it's there. "It's nothing," I tell myself, but apparently, myself doesn't listen. Five days later, I had a severely sore throat and the sniffles. Well, that just won't do, so I go to the walk-in clinic, where you can almost see the germs circulating while listening to people's grossly loud, annoying cell phones ring. Apparently, they didn't get the memo that you should put them on vibrate or turn them off in small, enclosed spaces. Whatev! But that's not as bad as the people who answer them by practically screaming into the phone and then sharing way too much personal information with me. Hello? With me? I try to avoid personal info from friends . . .
Anyway, we go to Visitation in Atlanta; then Wes heads home, and I stay for the funeral. He had a photo shoot that couldn't be rescheduled since it was a grand opening. By the way, I can't wait to see our fabulous new student union with Starburcks. (Imagine the angels singing right now 'cause they are in my head--my snotty, congested head.) Visitation and funerals make me cry--or make me fight tears, neither of which works well for fighting a cold. Anyway, I lose. It wins. I go to the clinic, get a shot, but really have to wait it out.
And here's more of the impeccable timing: yep, it's the first week of classes. My students are never going to believe that I'm not one of those sickly professors who cancels class every two weeks. They'll be anticipating that sign on the door, and it will never be there. They'll feel betrayed, and I won't understand the suddenly harsh student evaluations. (By the way, one of the comments this year was "Dr. Sewell is a ham." Really? Does that sound like me? I think not. It made me laugh, though.)
Anyway, I joined the wrong bandwagon this year. Next time people in my house get sick, I'm moving to a hotel.
posted by Donna Sewell at
8:35 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home