A few weeks ago I became deathly ill. Ok, maybe not quite DEATHLY, but I got a really sore throat and it didn't feel nice. I also got a sinus infection and almost lost my voice and had to take numerous medications whose side effects included feeling like a melted slug all the time. Unfortunately the worst days were my days off work so I never got to call in sick (even though I felt like crap when I was at work) and I spent my glorious weekend sitting on the couch playing Snail Bob and drinking vitamin water.
The thing about these ravaging colds is that when one finally does recover, one appreciates all the little things in life even more. One also becomes incredibly dramatic about everything.
Incredibly Enthusiastic Recovering Danae: "WOW! I can drive! When was the last time I was able to drive my own car? must have been before the pandemic hit me..."
Normal Cynical Danae: "It was yesterday."
Incredibly Enthusiastic Recovering Danae: "Food! I can taste thee! Oh joy of joys!"
Normal Cynical Danae: "Yum. Yum."
Incredibly Enthusiastic Recovering Danae: "I must have walked twelve meters just now! Why, when I was ill I could scarce make it from the couch to my room without fainting. Life is a glorious sparkly butterfly!"
Normal Cynical Danae: "No comment."
