I’m pretty good at being sick – I lay low, drink gatorade, do crosswords, write lots of letters, maybe bake a cake. My roommate has been home sick with me, though, and she is not very good at being sick. Her first day home she woke up at 7 am, cleaned the entire apartment, changed out the bag in the vacuum, and practiced packing her suitcase for her upcoming 5-month trip to France. I had to stop her from taking apart the burners on the stove to soak them in the sink. Today she wanted to vacuum again, but we’re out of vacuum bags, and she would not be dissuaded from putting on her coat and hat and going out in the 9 inches of snow for more. This is fine with me, though, because she was standing in my doorway earlier talking to me, and I noticed her eyes darting around my room, twitching, and I shouted, “You’re looking for something else to clean, aren’t you? Get out!”
The combination of sick day plus snow day was getting to be too much even for me, so I tried to bundle up and go into the city to see a movie, but walking to the mailbox kind of wore me out, so I’m going to return to my strict regimen of Drinking Hot Things and Looking at Stuff for one more day.