MAY AND THE EMBARRASSMENT OF THE THERMOMETER

I am sick. Let me start with that. I categorically denied it, because I was supposed to go to The Voice of Holland tonight. With a backstage visit. At the invitation of my new best friend Manon, Mr. Dasschuif, WAYLON, Sanne, and all my newly acquired friends. My new best friend advised me to smuggle a small bottle of wine and some candy. Because it’s quite a long sit, such a live show.

Renske was allowed to come along. After all, she had her birthday yesterday. ‘I. Must. Now. Be. On. The. Ventilator.’ Because of Waylon. And then she dove into the city and we were bombarded with a WhatsApp barrage with various packages.

But I felt something. I was coughing like a wet, old dog. Not really a plus for someone in the audience at The Voice. But I thought of my newly acquired friends, of Renske, and thought: I’m going.

I’m such a Calvinistic dullard who only thinks she can lie in bed when you have serious fever. At least 39 degrees. In a slightly desperate state (because I really knew I felt bad), I drove to the Gelderlandplein. In the Etos, I tossed the first best ear thermometer into my basket (measuring at the other entrance is Not an Option). In the shopping center, I ripped open the packaging of the device and clicked it in my ear. A somewhat embarrassing situation, but so be it. I had to know. 37.3 was what the thing indicated. See? I was being a drama queen.

In my car, I repeated the trick once more. And at the office too. About seventeen times. Because I just couldn’t imagine feeling like A and then having a B temperature.

Let’s take another look at the device. Maybe there wasn’t a good battery in it. What did my eye see? Something sticky. Was that a sticker? Guys. The factory sticker was still on the digital screen. That indicated that neat, everyday temperature. We did it again. Yes indeed. 39.1. Really fever. See, I can do it.

If you tell someone about this blunder, I will come and set you on fire. So.