Generic Holiday

Just what the doctor ordered.. literally.

I haven't had much time to sleep lately. I suppose if I cut out social gatherings and late-night mail-typing sessions, I'd have more than enough sleep space, but I do need some variety in my life. So last week my meaty vessel decided 'screw you, lady', showed all the cards it had, and folded. I got slightly irritated with falling asleep in meetings, in conversation (sorry, Gert), and feared falling asleep behind the wheel. So I decided to get myself booked off.
As a student, there were so many times where I'd chain-smoke a few cigarettes (all the better to cough with, my child), walk around in the cold with summer clothes and run to the campus doctor (for increased body temperature), all in the vain hope that he/she will write me a standard sick note, and I wouldn't have to write the test that I didn't study for.
9 times out of 10 this technique didn't work. Thank goodness for affadavids. Who can spell that, cause I surely can't.

Not in this town, senorita. This is how it works in the lovely little town of Bronkhorstspruit.
There are three standard doctors. They are all fat, with jolly round faces, Saint Nick beards, and shows you into the examination room with a "ho-ho-how are you feeling today?!". Lovely. I love going to the doctor here. You pay a flat rate of R170. Then, they wait for your sob story. Mine was very truthful:
I've been feeling like crap for a week now, I don't have time to rest and recuperate, I need some time off. Help.
He whipped out his magic sick-note pad, and said, "It's Tuesday now, I'll give you till Friday. Is that alright, or do you want to stay at home for longer?"
I was mentally rubbing my hands together in glee. I settled for 3.5 days off work, and he started dishing out the government-issued drugs. Bag upon bag of pills; pink ones and green ones and tiny white ones and large purple ones. I had to stop it. I asked what they were all for.
Oh this one, he replied, is for pain and fever.
But I'm not in pain, and I don't HAVE a fever, I argued.
He looked up at me, blinked and said, "Oh, then just add this to your personal collection. You're bound to have pain or fever some day in the future."

After my second visit to the local doctor's association, I've got enough 'future medication' to cook up some seriously wicked psychedelics in the comfort of my home. I'll never have to visit the pharmacy again.