Sick as a Dog Day

I’m sick. I hate being sick. Not that people enjoy being sick, but still.

There are a few things about being sick that are particularly irksome.

1. I’m weak and vulnerable like a 3-day old kitten. And yes, almost anything can make me cry. Especially if someone is nice to me – whoa, watch the waterworks then! Or if something is even moderately frustrating. Like, oh, say all your teaspoons are in the dishwasher and you’re trying to eat some yogurt. So you grab a tablespoon, but the spoon won’t fit through the wee opening of the yogurt container. And you think “Who makes yogurt containers this fucking tiny? Does everyone in the world hate me?” And then the pressure that is built up behind your ears starts throbbing and you think, “All I want is some fucking yogurt.”

And then the tears.

2. Everyone annoys you. Everyone is stupid and bugging you. The next door neighbor who just hauled a new piece of furniture up the three flights of stairs and caught the bottom on each step. At 4 o’clock in the afternoon for Chrissakes, like people aren’t taking drug-induced naps at that hour! Or the e-mail alert that dings with lovely messages from friends and family and the occasional head-hunter right in the middle of a Cameron Crowe marathon. It’s been years since I’ve seen Singles – can’t I just watch Campbell Scott in peace?

3. The Cashier at Walgreens. Most days I’m able to take my local Walgreens Cashier in stride. She’s a sweet lady, but she has never honed the intricacies of cashiering. These are things I figured out when I was 17-years-old working at a local grocery store.

While it’s nice to be quick on the keys or scanner (we didn’t have scanners in my day) and it helps to have memorized each and every produce code – the real key to being an awesome cashier is your ability to filter any and all commentary. Your main superpower is the ability to ignore what you have just rung up, stifle any sniggering and withhold judgement until the customer has left the store.

For example: If you ring up some French bread, bottle of wine, cheese and a box of condoms – it’s not appropriate to say “Wow, big night planned?” Similarly, ringing up Theraflu, ginger ale, cough drops and Chapstick and saying “Someone feeling under the weather?” It’s like – no, dumbass, I’m just trying to get you to think that someone is feeling under the weather to get some god-damned sympathy. Or was it the pale and pasty face (regardless of the pounds of make up I put on this morning) that gave me away? Oh crap, was that a welling of tears?

Anyway, I’m not a good sick person. In fact, when I’m sick, I’m actually a bad person. So all in all it’s probably best that the gick forces me to sit wrapped up like a mummy in comfy blankets on my couch all by my lonesome rather to inflict my evilness on the world.

So until I’m feeling well again, it’s probably best you leave me to my Puffs Plus and Vanilla Sky.