a real florence nightingale

For those of you who have met me, you might already know that I get sick more often than a normal, 24-year-old person should.  This can be mostly attributed to my two obnoxious, pre-existing health problems: asthma and hypoglycemia.  The asthma ensures that I am completely debilitated every time the weather has an extreme change.  The hypoglycemia guarantees I am completely insufferable if I haven’t eaten in two hours.

How I still have friends is completely beyond me.

Autumn has decided to actually show up this year and temperatures took a pretty impressive drop in the past couple of weeks.  I had managed to stave off my usual season-change illness for some time, but Saturday night my body finally decided that This Bird Had Flown.  I don’t know if that actually makes sense in this context, but I’ve got a system full of Mucinex that says it does.  So now I find myself a coughing, phlegm-y mess and at my office, praying that the clock manages to speed up so that the next ten minutes pass in ten seconds and I can go home and curl up in bed.

My bosses have been out the past few days because they were honeymooning in sunny Florida.  Because of this, I have been working on both mine and my supervisor’s computer off and on since Thursday.  I know for a fact that boss has a weak immune system and, on the off-chance that what I have is actually contagious, I got out some sanitizing wipes to use on her computer now that it is the end of the day and I’m done working on it.  Then I realised that I had also man-handled the container the wipes come in, causing it to be potentially contaminated as well.  I have now reached a disconcerting paradox wherein even the sanitizing wipes are not sanitary because I have touched them.

I never expected proper OCD to feel so much like a Mucinex overdose.


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