I'm Just A Little Unwell

Just got back from the doctor's, folks, it seems I've been diagnosed with chronic Lethargycitis, an ambiguous disease whose source and symptoms are being explored yet. 

Commonly enough, the disease shows itself in its extreme form in people after periods of vacation, as the body reacts negatively to being thrown back into mundane work routine. Symptoms so far, in my case, include the following. You may want to check yourself as well (before you wreck yourself, homeslice). 

1. Lying in bed and staring at the ceiling for hours, contemplating all kinds of fascinating things, such as, I wonder how that misshapen splotch on the ceiling appeared, when I turn my head to this angle and look at it, it kind of looks like Winnie the Pooh dancing with Piglet. 

2. A distaste for even the most menial manual chores, including that of cooking, and therefore a relentless penchant for dialing the KFC hotline and ordering burgers, fries and the occasional chocolate pie. 

3. Restlessness from boredom, often resulting in finding oneself seated on the sofa and incessantly flipping through cable TV channels, and then finding nothing to watch but 'Packed to the Rafters' and thus curling up into a ball and mumbling expletives about the stupid plot and about why there are no black people on the show. 

4. Showing a sudden enthusiasm to start working, making a list of pending assignments on the white-board, making markings on the calendar, mentally setting out deadlines, staring at the list happily, and then collapsing in a heap on the sofa five minutes later whilst dialing KFC. 

5. Spending hours online pressing Like on stupid pictures and watching a very amusing YouTube video on loop of a baby monkey being given a bath. 

6. Getting a call from a friend to come hang out at this awesome new place, telling them you're sorry but you're really busy - hang up and go back to lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. 

7. Contemplating doing something at least remotely productive. Contemplating this. While doodling on your hands with a ballpoint pen.  

8. Leaving aside six assignments to write a blogpost about a fictional disease to justify your behaving like a useless fat shit. 

So yeah. It's chronic. Doc recommended a lot of bed-rest, said I don't have much longer to live. In case you feel bad about that and stuff, you know where to send your sympathy food. And your YouTube links featuring ridiculously adorable animals.