Confession: I do not do well with illness.
I was never one of those lucky kids with a crippling stomach flu that kept them out of school for a week. If I told my mom I thought I had strep throat, she told me to gargle with salt water and get outside before I missed the bus. If I coughed until I was red in the face, my mom would hand me a dose of sickly-sweet cough syrup and tell me to hurry up and just drink it before I missed the bus.
(Cough syrup is my nemesis. I still won't take it. The day Nyquil and Dayquil capsules were released, I wept with joy...at least until I tried to open one of those blister packs. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO A SICK PERSON?!)
If my mom deviated from her 'tough it up' mentality and let me stay home sick, there was no lunch and video games and a story in bed a la The Princess Bride. No, if we were well enough to do anything but sleep, then we were well enough to at least do the dishes. Or dust. Bathroom bound? Great! Scrub the floor around the toilet while you're in there.
Looking back, my mother was a wise woman. School trumped housework: she taught me to learn how to function when I'm not feeling well.
But sometimes you have to throw in the towel. Sorry, Ma.
I am pathetically propped up on the couch today, battling walking pneumonia, and ear infection, and a sinus infection. I have no intention of scrubbing toilets.