Sickness and Responsibility

Every now and then Karma decides that the regular everyday bullshit in your life is just not enough. That you have taken for granted all of the mundane things that are driving you insane. That you have forgotten that all of the gifts bequeathed unto you by the Universe are to be appreciated, and you are now in need of a reality check to remind you that in the grand scheme of things you are pretty fucking lucky. How did this happen? What was the final straw on the camel's back that has driven the Universe to remind you ever so gently (and with congestion that won't allow you to sleep in your favorite position) that you have it pretty fucking good? (You whiner.) Perhaps you have bitched about not getting a good parking spot one too many times or that you complained a little too loudly about the way that a co-worker always runs the copier out of paper. To punish* you for having taken these daily frustrations for granted, for not realizing that these mundane things could be so much worse than your Capitalistic, self-centered, First-World problems, Karma does not strike you with lightening. Oh no, that would be too quick. Too conspicuous. Instead on a day when you have to give attention to the priorities and responsibilities in your life it will turn you on yourself.
"What do you mean?" You ask. I mean that my immune system has turned against more than this streptococcus infection, and I am pretty sure that it is just trying to kill me from the inside out on a day that I have no choice but to go out into the world and deal with shit that I barely want to give attention to on a standard day. There is nothing worse than having to go to work, or today in my case, school when you are sick. Everyone is loud, even though my head is pounding. I still have to get work done, even though I am so doped up on anti-snot meds that I can barely form a thought. Let me tell you, for this girl, there is no such thing as discrete nose blowing. And I pretty sure that I could be trailed by the tissue that I am leaving in my wake.** Likewise, I have officially become a mouth breather, because my nostrils are officially bricked up with carefully stacked green, sticky...you know where this is going. And I hate mouth breathers. That drives me nuts. Shut your damn mouth; that is why you have more than one orifice in your face in which to take in air. You can see why
Karma chose this one with which to condemn me.
The worst part really is that you know that you are diseased and as though the medicine head and general symptoms of your sickness were not enough you can feel the eyes of everyone on you as you sneeze and cough and blow your nose and drop to your knees in the hallway to beg for forgiveness from your higher power. "All I am asking for is to be well again! Why?! Why have you forsaken me?!" Okay. Maybe that would be something that would warrant staring on any given day, but you see my point. It is all too clear that you are sick, and everyone knows that your dripping red nose and dry consistent coughing are spreading armies of germs into the atmosphere around you contaminating everything that you come in contact with. Meanwhile, that one asshole that thinks they are helpful when they so clearly are not says something like, "Don't you think you should have stayed home?" What and miss all the fun of carting around a box of tissues and straining to hear the professor out of my one unplugged ear, while I try to manage the buzz of the cold medicine long enough to form linear thought? No, I live for this shit. 
 And then it comes to you, like the wave of excitement when your nostrils clear for no apparent

reason and you believe in that split second before they reseal themselves, that Karma is not punishing you. You are not the one who is being targeted. It is Mr. Helpful. You have been chosen by the Universe to smite those that are in need of their Karmic comeuppance. For all of his stating the obvious Mr. Helpful has been sighted, judged, and can now serve his sentence for being the pain in the ass that he is and for never filling the paper in the copy machine and parking his gas guzzling SUV in your parking spot. With one perfectly timed sneeze or strategic freshly coughed on hand placement you could reign down the fury that is this hellacious virus onto him like the fiery blade of an Archangel....and just as you are about to pat his back with a damp hand and that look on your face that says that you so appreciate his concern for your well being you sneeze-- shooting a glob of snot out of your nose that shocks and awes you both. As you reach in a panic for a tissue to cover the disgusting-ness that you have just fired out of your face your realize, that the Karmic justice was yours all along. Maybe you should have let your significant other watch that stupid fucking TV show last week or bought that over-priced, poorly made toy for your child. Or maybe, just maybe, you should wash your hands more diligently it is fucking cold and flu season. 

 



*I realize that in the world of Karmic understanding that this is not meant as punishment, but as a tool from which you should learn from your mistakes....I assure you I feel punished. As such I will try from now on to refrain from complaining about that girl at the coffee shop that fucks up my Iced Carmel Macchiato with no whip every time I order it as though she has a personal order from corporate to do so...in case that is the constant bitch that I have pushed the limit with.
 
**Okay, not really. I am not a savage. Sick or not, I know how to use a trash can. Unless I am at home. In which case, missed tissues next to the trash can while trying to make 3-pointers from bed is close enough. Whatever. You do it too. Don't judge. That is what got us into this mess to begin with.