It’s not enough of a fever for me to even bother with ibuprofen. Just enough that I am always chilled. It’s not enough of a body ache for me to lie down, just enough to augment every existing ache, pain and shoulder knot that I naturally have from working a desk job and not being active enough. It’s not enough chest pain to  affect my level of activity, it’s more of an ache than a pain, really. And it’s not enough dizziness to go home from work early, just enough that I can’t fidgetingly swivel my chair like I always do and occasionally have to grab a wall when I’m in transit and forget to pay attention to my motion.

So odd that we function with an idea of the threshold of misery that our body must be at before we pay attention. The dizziness is new to today, but it made me think, “Hhmmm. I’ve been like this for at least two weeks. Maybe three. Maybe I should pay attention.” But, you know, I’m really not that miserable. I’m not anywhere near my threshold. If it was serious, I would be miserable, I’m quite sure.

You want to know what is making me miserable, though? The mental fog. Goddamn but I cannot cope with not being able to follow what’s going on around me. You know that ridiculous smugness that the (temporarily) able-bodied have about their able-bodies, in spite of its being a condition they can’t really take credit for? Well, that’s how I feel about my brain. I am smug and stuck up about it. And when it fails me, it exposes me as having considered myself distinguished by this ability with no virtue in it.