If there’s one thing I’m really good at it’s nothing. Hmm, somehow that didn’t exactly come out the way I’d hoped it would. So, in the interest of dodging a multi-concept, verbal pile-up right here on the virtual on-ramp I’ll just back up and take another run at it.

OK, here’s what I’m not saying — I’m not saying that there’s nothing I do well. Like just about everyone else, I do plenty of things well. But I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about another matter entirely.

Like, for instance, what happens on those rare occasions when the situation literally requires you to do nothing? What then? Well, frankly, whenever I find myself someplace where “do nothing” is listed in the official job description, I just figure: “Hey, I’m the man for the job.” What can I say? It’s a gift.

Now, as you may have noticed, this particular gift - the ability to do nothing when doing nothing is what’s called for — is a surprisingly rare commodity in contemporary American culture.

Look around. You’ll be amazed at how many of your friends and neighbors are absolute train-wrecks when it comes to the fine art of doing nothing.

Believe me, I know whereof I speak, having spent many years in the company of a woman who is about as bad at this “doing nothing” stuff as anyone you’ll ever meet.

And before you grab your big chief tablet and Crayolas and start scribbling down spurious allegations, let’s be clear that I meant that in no way as a criticism of my dear wife. I’m just making an observation, is all. One, I might add, which she herself has made, with witnesses present, on numerous occasions.

So is this elemental “busy-ness” drive of hers rooted in some specific genetic or environmental influence within her family of origin? Or does growing up in Minnesota simply have that effect on everyone? Who knows? What I do know is that even the idea of doing nothing has long been her Achilles heel.

Which has me a little bit worried right now since, as often happens with couples, just as I’m finally awakening from my extended viral nightmare, my wife has started to experience some early symptoms of the exact same malady, which totally derailed me for an entire week!

A week? Ayuh, that’s a whole lot of nothing, Bubba. And unfortunately it seems to be headed her way.

Here’s what a whole lot of nothing felt like for me last week. You know that familiar Maine springtime ritual wherein folks go hiking off into the woods to “tap” the sap that’s rising in the trunks of the maple trees?

Well, let’s just say that as a direct result of my recent experience, I’ve acquired a much deeper appreciation of the way that process must feel to the actual maple trees themselves. The primary difference being, of course, that in my case something a lot less appealing than “sap” was “running” for an entire week - that, of course, and the fact that nobody stopped by to empty the bucket.

So I ended up spending a whole week flat on my back, my body aching, my head inflated to a point where in terms of size, shape, color and texture it resembled nothing so much as a regulation-sized NBA basketball.

Phone calls and emails went unanswered. The doorbell may have rung a time or two as the muted growl of distant snowplows harmonized with the whoosh of my vaporizer. Disconnected from the world beyond my bedroom I floated on a tangled linen sea, gazing out across a massive menthol-scented cloudbank of discarded Kleenex.

I suppose I must have eaten something during my long voyage on those viral seas but if I did I can’t recall what that was, some chicken soup perhaps?

I do know that at some point I stumbled onto my bathroom scale only to discover that I’d shed the 10 pounds I’d been trying to lose anyway. Frankly, in terms of diet plans, this one’s right up there with organ donation. Trust me there are much easier ways to go.

I mentioned that last bit to my sister when she called to check on me. I also told her that I’d spent the past week under the care of “Mucous Welby MD.” Laughing, she replied, “Wow! I’m amazed that you can keep your sense humor through all this.”

Amazed? Really? I’m not so sure about that. The way I see it, it’s only when we’re OK that humor seems like a luxury.

Whenever we’re feeling awful, the way I felt last week for instance, a sense of humor seems like an absolute necessity!