It’s 11am in Indian Wells and instead of being at the tennis garden like a normal person who travelled halfway across the world to sit in the sun and watch tennis… I am in my hotel room wrapped in a hotel duvet, drinking ginger ale, and trying to convince myself this is not the flu.
I’m hoping it’s one of those extremely rude but merciful 24-hour viruses that appear out of nowhere, ruin exactly one day of your life, and then disappear again.
Because the timing of this is honestly spectacular.
We are at the start of the second week of Indian Wells. The matches are getting good. The draw is getting serious. This is when the tournament really starts feeling electric. And i am currently horizontal, staring at the ceiling fan like it’s a very slow rally.
Current strategy: – hydrate like a champion – sleep – pretend the nausea is “character building” – manifest being well enough to sit in the sun at the tennis garden tomorrow
If this is a 24-hour thing, i will forgive my immune system.
If it is not, however, I will be filing a formal complaint with the universe because missing second-week indian wells would be an act of cruelty.
Anyway. if anyone needs me i’ll be here dramatically clutching a bottle of water and whispering “please just be a virus.”
