Jonathan Meyer.

There are certain truths in life: snow falls in Iowa before we’re ready for it, the Wi-Fi drops right when you need to upload something important, and I will become sick at the most inopportune moment possible. Every time. Without fail. It’s truly remarkable how consistent I am at this one very unfortunate talent.

This week, of course, is finals week — the pinnacle of academic endurance, the Super Bowl of poorly timed stress. And as I sit here writing, I have two finals today. Not “later this week.” Not “tomorrow.” Today. Two of them. And naturally, this is when my body has decided to give up on me.

I feel like garbage. My nose is stuffed, my head aches, my body hurts, even my eyebrows feel tired. This didn’t happen all at once, either. It crept in gradually, the way a bad plot twist creeps into a TV show you were just starting to enjoy. One sniffle here, one sore muscle there, and suddenly I’m operating at a level of functionality slightly below that of a potted plant.

I really think I’ve developed a bit of a victim complex this week. I know — I know. Usually I roll my eyes at people who declare themselves the tragic protagonists of their own lives because their latte was made with the wrong milk. But sometimes… there’s a “but.” And this week, that “but” is massive.

Because it is unfortunate when everything hits at the wrong time. When your responsibilities don’t lighten just because your immune system has decided to take a personal day. When you try to rally but your rally button is missing. When the timing is so bad you can’t help feeling like the universe could’ve at least submitted a scheduling request first.

Still, I’ll show up to my finals. I’ll do what I need to do. I’ll blow my nose a million times. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll survive long enough to reach winter break, where I fully intend to sleep until someone wakes me up for dinner.

Until I’m no longer congested beyond recognition, I’m Just Jonathan.