Day 22: January 2
Stay in bed. Or on the couch. Or on the cold floor between the living room and your bedroom. Because the dusty wood feels good on your feverish face.
Oh, and clean your floor. You’ve really fallen down on the job (pun very much intended) lately. Where’s your OCD-perfectionist-type-A persona been hiding?
Don’t admit you have the flu just yet. Tell people it’s some kind of cold or something. But you’re still fine for the party you hosting on Sunday.
Translation:Twenty-five is sleeping on the floor. And being concerned about this only as it relates to your housekeeping habits rather than its larger implications of your life choices.
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Day 23: January 3
Miss your mom and your roommates and ex boyfriends who have taken care of you through various illnesses over the years. Realize that this is the first real sickness that was more than the common cold (because you’re calling this the [self-diagnosed] flu now) that you have to handle on your own.
You’re getting your own soup and your own medicine (or not getting as it turns out) and telling yourself to rest and hydrate. Prepare yourself; you might actually be a grownup (albeit kind of a gross one) now.
Translation: Twenty-five is learning to take care of yourself when you’re under the weather because it’s a little overdue. And being grateful that you’ve been so blessed in your life, that you’re only now having to learn such techniques.
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Day 24: January 4
Become bitter. Forget your gratefulness from yesterday. Because you’ve rested, and you still have a fever. You’ve taken care of yourself like an adult (arguable), and you’ve really rested! You’re not one to rest and you’ve rested! And still, you can’t get off the couch.
(Well you did make that delicious smoothie, but that was your crowning achievement today, and you were too exhausted from making it to actually drink it.) Maybe you should rest some more.
Translation: Twenty-five is the same as every other age when it comes to the flu. Awful. And completely, totally, unapologetically overdramatic.
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Day 25: January 5
Praise God! Your fever broke. Seriously, be grateful. You are free!
Go to the coffee shop and have brunch with your friend. The one you sorta kinda got sick when you were living in the denial of the flu. Apologize for that a lot. Like that makes up for it.
Y’all take turns coughing loud disgusting coughs, effectively ruining brunch for the other brunch goers. Finally have a conversation with hot waiter 7 months after the crying incident! And with a witness nonetheless!
(Don’t call this a success just yet. You may not be crying this time, but you’re still pretty gross, and he’s going to make a super awkward comment in 3, 2–yep, crush over.) Let the awkward interactions resume as normal.
Decide that today is the day you buy, handle, and install that area rug you’ve had your eye on. Clearly. And by all means, invite your sick friend to help you with that undertaking.
Translation: Twenty-five is the long awaited breaking of a fever you thought would never end. And enjoying the simple joys of a nothing-really-happened-today day.
And brunch. Twenty-five is the year of brunch. Because who doesn’t love over-priced breakfast food that you don’t have to wake up early for?
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Writer’s Note: This post is part of a larger series called “Learning Twenty-Five.”
