Chicken soup, anyone?

Illness is kind of like three feet of snow in one respect: At home, it gives you an excuse to sit on your ass, watch movies and drink tea, but at school, it serves no function other than making you miserable. My immune system couldn't have picked a worse time to short out on me, either. There are seven measly days until the study abroad application is due, and there are millions of things that need to be done between now and then. I'm just hoping the required physical exam goes OK, and that the doctors don't think this little bug is a contagious disease that will follow me to Russia, wiping out hundreds of St. Petersburg residents.
Back when I was getting a free, unsolicited subscription to YM, I noticed that every issue would inevitably have a sob story about how some female reader or another brought chicken soup over to her "sick" boyfriend's house, only to open the door and find him on the couch making out with her best friend. For some reason, whenever I read those, I didn't get angry at the boyfriend. My thoughts went more along the lines of "Chicken soup? What an idiot! If she got sick, the most she could expect from him would be a sympathetic phone call that eventually turned into a plea for sex. And why didn't she knock on the door first? Can't a guy have some privacy?" Not to mention that the girl, armed with near-boiling liquid, always just stormed out of the house in tears, failing to take advantage of the situation by giving the lovers third-degree burns.
Then again, I suppose you can't expect rationality or intelligence from anyone who writes in to YM. Did you know that the editors themselves refer to the publication as "YM magazine", yet still claim that the initials stand for "Your Magazine"? Who's in charge of their Department of Redundancy Department?