I think I have the SARS. Or mad cow. Or the swine flu. Or some other ungodly sickness that has transformed me into a drippy, sneezy, coughy disgusting mess. Nobody should ever have to see me in this state, burrowed in a blanket, shivering my face off in a 70-degree house.
I think you forget how crappy it is being sick when you feel good most of the time. Maybe that's why it happens--to snap us back into our own mortality and remind us how powerless we really are over stupid, dirty viruses.
There's something about being sick that stops you in your tracks, though. Whatever was going on at the time in your life is suddenly and abruptly put on hold as you spend all of your energy trying to feel human again.
So I think I'll return to my blanket fortress and try to recover from this mad cow with a few (dozen) hot toddies and a bottle of nyquil.