It’s amazing the things you take for granted – like – breathing through your nose.

I have had a tissue box permanently attached to my hip for the past 72 hours. My nose has, over these past few days, turned to a bright shade of red, has become sensitive to the touch, and I can’t help but wonder how there can really be that much stuff up somewhere up in my head that is causing me to constantly be blowing my nose.

I don’t believe in the flu shot. I don’t believe in shots in general, or pills, or take this for that or that to prevent this or tablets or things that fizzle in water and promise to deliver me from a sick-free-season, which I guess, is why I got this, regardless of how much I like to boast that I never get sick (I mean, don’t we all?)

In and out of the haze of fever that struck me nearly three days ago, I’ve given up on being on the wagon and have been consuming large amounts of Nyquil, a drug that I have come to know and love. I think I liked being sick much better when I was a kid, when I had someone to take care of me, instead of walking down 72nd street feeling somewhere in the general body temperature vicinity of 102 degrees just to stock up on all sorts of over-the-counter medication.

But I guess that’s growing up, having to learn how to take care of yourself. I mean the overall idea can be pretty overwhelming at times, and some of us learn better than others. Some of us still don’t know how to cook a meal or do laundry (lights, darks, what difference does it make?). Of course I could probably answer the question of whether or not I’ve been doing a good job fairly easily. I’m sure my mother would have objected to me going out for drinks on Saturday night just when this illness was starting to settle in and walking home in the rain. I’m sure that nice guy at the bar, (Jason), would have liked me more had I not been tuning in and out of him telling me how he’s a student at Columbia and a Mets fan (I mean, I guess) because I was starting to feel light-headed from the vodka/Tylenol combination.

Sometimes we’re not as smart as we like to think we are (cough). Because we’re trying to do so much living in what feels like such a short amount of time (youth), sometimes the only choice we have is to throw “doing the right thing” out the window in order to capitalize on our lives (Jason).

And while I’ll probably never see Jason again, and I still wash both lights and darks together on cold (it saves money and time), I might not be learning how to take care of myself as well as I’d like. But I do consider myself a little bit of a grown up – most of the time. I know that once I make it through this flu I’ll once again be stubborn and not take any shots or pills or tablets that fizz and I’ll boast how I never get sick, until, again, I inevitably do. And whatever that says about how smart a grown-up I am, is anyone’s guess.

All I know now for sure, is that I have to go, because I’m out of tissues.