It's the kind of sick that doesn't allow you to go out to tea and a movie with your friend, which you had heretofore planned, but which does allow you to stay home and do work on your laptop, like writing drafts of reports and thinking about syllabi.
It's the kind of sick that you just have to freaking endure, knowing that it will abate, but it's going to take its own sweet time about it.
It's the kind of sick where, even though you have leftover cake from your dinner party two days before, the cake must languish because, like toast, it hurts to eat it. Yes, I am saying that in my present condition, cake--very good cake, if I do say so myself--is as toast, no offense to toast, because both of them are anathema to my throat. It's the kind of sick that calls for tea. Lots and lots of tea.
It's the kind of sick that wakes you up at 4 a.m. for more ibuprofen.
It's the kind of sick that visits you during the last few days of a break. Alas, break! you are nearly over and I am sick.
Tomorrow, it will be the kind of sick that helps me write two syllabi. O my syllabi: you will be redolent of contagion.