I woke up in the middle of the night
2005-10-13, 5:37 p.m.
I woke up in the middle of the night, vaguely aware of a headache, and vaguely aware that I had to pee, but did not wake up enough to do anything constructive about either one. So I tossed and turned for a few hours, awaking occasionally to think about getting up to pee, and think about getting up to take ibuprofen, but never did either.
So when I finally woke up for reals at 6:30 this morning, the pain in my bladder was surpassed only by the pain in my head. Fortunately, stumbling to the bathroom took care of the bladder, but there was nothing I could do about my head except start taking drugs and pray.
Zicam congestion stuff
Ibuprofen (3 of them! 3, I tell you!)
Hydroxyless (just for the speed effect, but itís pretty good on my superfluous appetite*, too)
So I forgot to pray. Shoot me.
At first, I didnít feel any better. The radio and A/C in my car made my face hurt. Then I started feeling very, very nauseous. To the point that I started drooling, and began eyeing my office trash can in hopes that it (1) wasnít too full and (2) had a liner in it. It was a ďgoĒ on both of those. The nausea subsided, so luckily I didnít hork into my trash can, something I have actually done before. Now THATís really a mess when you do that.**
Finally, the congestion in my face started to drip out my nose. My eyes glazed over, my head stopped hurting, and I lost my appetite for everything except, curiously, those green pistachio-flavored muffins at the grocery store.
That has been my day. I got some work done, and I rolled my eyes at an inane email I received from a co-worker, which hurt my hurtie eyeballs. I took Lil Guyís lunch to the school, and made a trip to the store to get the aforementioned green muffins.
Oh! I got my hairs cut on Tuesday. There was a girl in before me who was getting the Very Cutest Haircut of All Time, and I stuck my head in Jillís little cubie and told her ďThatís the exact haircut I want. That one.Ē As it turns out, I have the same haircut now as a girl who is entering the police academy on Monday. Add on top of that the fact that I (1) havenít colored my hair in two months and (2) eschewed makeup today because of the face pain and resulting apathy and (3) am wearing sensible shoes, and I look like an aging woman who has just given up.
But my hair is super-cute: itís The Very Cutest Haircut of All Time. See? OK, basically the same as it ever was, just shorter and grayer.
I smile the smile of the well-medicated
*You know what a superfluous appetite is. Itís the munchies. The fevah for the flavah of a Pringles and all that. The hunger that transcends a sensible meal.
**I used to get sick with my first birth control pill each month. One day, I decided to treat the nausea with apple juice and cheese crackers from the vending machine. A few minutes later, I intercommed the person in the next office over to please come shut my door, and I proceeded to hurl into my trash can. My METAL-SEAMED, UNLINED trashcan, from which a concoction of apple juice, stomach acid and crunched up, curdled cheese crackers began to promptly leak out on my carpet. My hero, the man who had shut my door for me, appeared by my side, picked up the trashcan, and took it Ėhellósomewhere and hosed it out. It left a little orange trail out the door and down the hall, and he arranged to have the carpet people come in the clean out the evidence of my vomit. He died young of lung cancer two years ago, and to the end, I reminded him that if he ever threw up in his trashcan, I owed him one big time.
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