I am currently afflicted with a cold, chills and a fever, which happens to me from time to time. It makes me sleepy, weak, and even more irritable than usual, yet at the same time evokes a sense of comforting nostalgia within me that makes me smile.
It's curious. But it stems from the fact that as a child with a slightly weaker constitution than most, I was frequently ill and homebound, and as such had to be cared for. Buried under blankets, fed chicken soup and orange juice, given all the tasty-for-children vitamins and attention one could ever hope for. (I am also intimately familiar with the taste of almost all major cough syrups but that's s story for anotehr time. My medicine cabinet still looks like I robbed the chemist's.)
It was a physically miserable, yet mentally happy time. One feels like the centre of the world-protected and cherished. (Plus not having to go to school was nice.)
Today, I am an adult, and basically have to fend for myself 99% of the time. But still, as I burrow down under the blankets, teeth chattering with chills, knowing full well that soon I'll be frying with fever, I still somehow feel comforted, relaxed, and linked back to the gentler days of my then-not-misspent youth.
Though as I write this small entry in the hopes of providing some kind of "Chicken Soup for the Soul" moment the adult in me realises that these warm feelings are probably how Münchhausen Syndrome gets its insidious start and now I've ruined it for myself.
Having successfully invaded both America and Canada from her home base in Windsor, Paisley has become horribly corrupted by the world. She hates active voice and wishes to god Twitter had an edit button. Dedicated to "creating the greatest 'Ship of them all", she ponders horribly terrible, idiotic things for your amusement.