20 September 2005

Under the weather.

Recovering from a cold today.

I’m hesitant to bring this up because it invariably provokes sympathy responses: “Hope you feel better!” and crap like that. Forget that. I will feel better, of course. That’s only a matter of time, and I recover quickly.

But I suppose I’m not that hesitant.

Mainly it’s because I want to rant about this: Somehow or other, men have developed a reputation for being big, whiny babies when we’re sick. So people inevitably expect that I’m gonna turn into a big wimp whenever I catch a virus, and are surprised when I don’t… and are sometimes horrified when I refuse to go home and rest. (I’ve rested already. Why do you think I’m at work?)

When I’m sick, I’m going to sleep a lot more often; but if I’ve got stuff to do, I’d better be physically unable to get out of bed before I stop fulfilling my obligations. The only time I call in sick is when I’m too sick to stand up. (That, fortunately, seldom happens.) I will go home and rest eventually. Until then, bugger off.