What Happened To The Days When Being Sick Meant "Princess For A Day"?

I am sick. Well yes, in more than once sense of the word, but today I am refering to being physically ill. I was going to originally spend this post talking about how my inevitable slide into adulthood was beginning, and then through all the sniffiling and work to breathe normally...I had an epihany. A stuck on the couch, six pillows, downcomforter kind of a revelation. I don't want to grow up. Can we talk about how there is nothing more miserable than being sick when you live alone? I will claim the feminist, independent woman card all day long, but when it comes down to it, when I am sick, I am hopelessly needy. I want to be taken care of! Chicken Soup? Yes, please, and if you could snuggle despite my homely appearance, contagious 'I don't know what I have' symptoms, and incredibly bad taste in outfit choice, that would be nice too. As if being sick weren't bad enough, my car broke down on the way home too. My lungs hate me, my car hates me...can a girl get a break?! What did I do? I cried. That's right. Car doors open, car hood up, front seat bawling. Nevermind that there were people all around. I didn't care.
"I just want to get into my bed...wah wah wah"...this probably deterred any possible help from the slew of people waiting at the bus stop in front of my car. The situation looked tragic I'm sure. What did this damsal in distress do you ask? What every damsal would do, I called my Dad. Prince Charming, not so available right now. He drove me home, and towed my car. Good day. I got home, dropped the heels, threw on a hoody and fell into bed. I went to the doctor later, all for her to tell me that the symptoms I was exhibiting were usually cured with sleep and lots of fluids. Really? $30 dollar co-pay for that? I'm going to med-school. Well, sleep? That's not happening this week, and my lungs would beg to differ, so some prescribed relief please. Perscribed she gave, relief...three days later, and I'm still waiting on that part. Ash wanted to bring me soup that evening, but all the way from Austin. And even I, in my compromised state, realized that was ridiculous. However, as soon as I hung up with her, I realized I was cold and thirsty. For five minutes I sat there thinking of how great the days were when I lived at home, and Mom came running with all that I needed. It wasnt until after those five minutes did I realize that wasnt going to happen, and was forced to get it myself. Dizzily stumbling through the hall to my kitchen, I decided growing up sucks. Not only was my Brita water filter empty, but five minutes after cozily settling back into my fort on the couch...burning up! Ugh. I'm hoping menopause is a thing of the past by the time I turn sixty. Then a Sonic commercial came on and convinced me an ice cream sundae was all the cure I needed. Hair sexily fountaining from the top of my head, my black yoga pants stuffed in a pair of Ugg boots, and my comfy hoody on, I treked outside, keys in hand. All to turn the corner to my driveway to remember, I didn't have a car. Defeated, I went back inside, fell into bed once again, shoes and all...and passed out for the night. At 7pm. Being sick when you are young has perks beyone belief. When you are an adult, its just sad.