I've just passed my first week of my first sabbatical leave. I spent half of it taking care of a kid with the flu, and the other half with the flu. First, let me just thank all the virologists for all the new work in antivirals. This is my first time on Tamiflu, and even though I'm not cured yet, it's been about as nice as the flu can get.
I also get to practice my... what. Mindfulness? Tranquility? Something. While I'm on my first sabbatical, most of my friends are on their second. Because reasons. This doesn't weigh on me due to jealously, it's just that I'm acutely aware of how precious this time is. I've worked sixteen years for this. The next time I'll get a chance, my son will be an adult.
This is not a healthy way to think, though. (First, as my wife points out, an eighteen year old kid doesn't really count as an adult in most meaningful senses.)
Week one, lost to influenza. What, am I going to feel resentful toward a class of virus?
Sounds crazy. I might be a little crazy right now.