If you could see me right now, you’d probably stop reading this.
My eyes are swollen, my nose is both stuffed and running, my upper lip is raw from blowing, and I’m probably contagious through these very words. I haven’t had a cold for two years, so this one is making up for lost time by being the most miserable one I’ve ever had.
This isn’t about the cold, however. It’s about the perversity of human nature. My human nature. anyway. As soon as I’m sick and haven’t the energy to sit up let alone do anything constructive, something constructive is all I can think about doing.
Ironing, for instance. I don’t like ironing. I avoid ironing. But today there’s a stack of shirts fresh from the laundry that I’m just itching to get started on. In fact, I scratched that itch as long as I could remain upright–which wasn’t long, but I got six shirts done and am feeling mighty pleased with myself.
I’m also dying to hem the new jeans I just bought. Normally, a job like that sits around for a while because I’d much rather sew something new than make alterations. But now, when the job will sap what little energy I have at the moment, it’s all I can think about. Find the thread, thread the machine, cut off the excess fabric, press up the hem, listen to the delicious whirr of the Viking–and voila! Something new to wear. Now that I can’t do it, it’s all I want to do.
And that’s not all. I just finished a writing assignment that’s due tomorrow. Being above all else a procrastinator, I usually never finish assignments until the very last minute. Always on time, mind you, but with never a minute to spare. Yet here I am, a whole day early, with the story done and emailed to my editor.