of suffering a vicious, nasty, disgusting, throat-achy, vile, nose-drippy, brain-softening cold virus over the weekend is...there is not the same pressure to perform as presented by weekdays. One can rise from bed at noon to sit in the afternoon sun and work the Sunday crossword puzzle, and feel no compunction to return phone calls or rush to one's tasks.
While one may not feel up to attending a Stray Birds concert (Alas, and it's to be held outdoors on this super-pleasant day! Yes, Yes, Reader Dear, the Yard Man very recently set out for this musical event by himself), one is privileged, between sneezes and coughs, to yell as loudly as desired for God to Listen up! Please take away this blankety-blank infirmity! ASAP!
While one cannot spend time with friends or family due to one's virus-bearing status as pariah (with a capital P), one gets to read to one's heart's content (Uh, and even beyond. One might read the Sunday paper more extensively than one ever previously has on a weekend that is sporting such fabulous weather!)
While one rubs one's nose raw with tissues, one can read the New York Times bestseller, The End of Your Life Book Club and see an ultimate bright side:
It's not likely to be the last book that I read!*
*Vile as it is, the odds are this vile virus won't be fatal!
(Yes, yes, I'll get to go to future concerts [with family and friends] on [yet-to-be] glorious Sunday afternoons!)!
Definitely a bright side, weekend or not. Wouldn't you agree, Reader Dear?**
**(oh, please say so, I'm begging in my rasp-riddled voice)