Being Sick

Why is it that when you have a plan 
to get a lot of things done and you have the time to do it, 
you get sick? 

I was planning on doing a lot of things this week, 
but it seems it was not meant to be. 

I sleep most of the day. 
My throat feels like someone shoved a razor blade down it, 
and every time I swallow they give it a good twist. 
A little green mucus, but no cough 
and the most pathetic runny nose you've ever seen
(practically non existent).

I'm a bit of a hypochondriac, 
and think every time someone is sick 
(especially me) 
that they're going to die. 

That's right. 

Die.

I hate being sick. And since I always go a little crazy 
because I never seem to know what to do and I get so worried, 
I'm grateful for my Mom. I can give her a call, 
she can tell me what she's told me a thousand times 
over again, and makes me feel better. 

At least I don't have to worry about 
going to school or work, that's a blessing. 
I can just be rest and get better, even though it 
makes me feel so useless.

Useless I say.

But the sun is shining. 
And my kitty hasn't left my side for the past three days. 
And I think I'll take a nap.

Maybe I won't die after all.