I remember when being sick meant that my mom took the day off of work to stay home and coddle me into being better. Sick with a fever generally meant a sleeping bag or nest of blankies on the couch, along with movies that not only did I not have to go get but I also didn't even have to put in the VCR, because lets be real, we're not talking DVDs were talking VHS. Depending on the severity of said sickness, it usually meant clean sheets mirculously appearing on my bed and homemade custard in little, single serving glass bowls with maple syrup in the bottom.
At the moment I'm thinking that being an adult is feeling seriously overrated. Thought now that I write this, I suppose what I should be thinking (and will be as soon as the antibiotics kick in) is how fantastic my Mom is.
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