Everyone lives for the weekend. You know, those glorious two days where we’re supposed to kick back, let loose, and forget about the grind. Except… when your body decides to betray you. That’s right, I’m talking about the cruel irony of getting sick on the weekend. 

This weekend? Oh, it started with a lovely little earache. Not just the kind that twinges here and there, but the kind that feels like a tiny drumline is rehearsing for a parade in my head. And just when I thought I could muster enough energy to enjoy some form of relaxation, my body reminded me, “Nope, not today.”

You see, everyone loves to say, “Get some rest!” But you know what? Resting when you’re sick feels like being stuck in some weird limbo. You don’t feel well enough to actually enjoy any of the activities that make the weekend worthwhile—no brunches, no spontaneous movie outings, no nothing. You’re just there, watching the world go by as you lie on the couch, clutching your ear and silently cursing whatever evil bug decided to ruin your weekend.

And here’s the kicker: as the weekend trudges on, you start to feel a little better. But not in time to enjoy anything—oh no. You start to feel human again just in time to return to the weekday chaos. Perfect timing, right? You get to crawl out of the illness pit just in time to get worn down all over again.

So there I was, bundled up, trying to make the most of my so-called “time off” by doing thrilling activities like counting the number of pain relievers I could legally take, staring at the ceiling, and binge-watching random TV shows that barely registered through the fog of my achy brain. Let’s not forget the earache symphony playing its grand finale every time I dared to move.

As Sunday rolls around, Im syre i will finally start to feel like myself again. But guess what? The weekend will be over. The same weekend I had planned to enjoy, to unwind from the madness of the week. Nope. I will be left with the harsh reality of Monday lurking around the corner, and all I had to show for my so-called “weekend” was a stuffy head and the knowledge that my immune system has the worst sense of humor.

It’s a cruel joke, really—this idea that we live for the weekend only to get smacked down by whatever virus is going around. But hey, maybe next weekend will be different. Or maybe I’ll just start bringing bubble wrap and Lysol to every social gathering, just in case.

Until then, here’s hoping for fewer earaches, fewer fevers, and more weekends that actually feel like a weekend.