Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Oh, Holy Crap, I Am Sick

I have a cold. And it’s a Summer Cold and anyone with a half a brain or who was raised in the South will tell you that The Summer Cold, while not an uncommon occurrence, is possibly the deadliest type of cold there is. More people are maimed for life because of rogue a Summer Cold than are smacked on the noggin with coconuts every year. “Why,” you may be asking yourself, “is The Summer Cold so much worse than a cold you might get any other time of year?”

Let me tell you why, dear friends.

Because it’s Summer and it’s Warm outside, and you have a Cold, get it?

Wait, what?

Maybe that’s just all the anti-histamines talking. That doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense, does it? Summer, warm, cold… Wha? Yeah, I just re-read that, and not only was it neither clever nor insightful as to the Ways of The Summer Cold, but it doesn’t even make any sense.

Have I told you about all the anti-histamines I’ve taken today? I think someone backed a dump truck up to my face and deposited an entire dump trick load of Benedryl Cold down my throat. Which, though it has the effect of making me SUPER loopy (can you tell?), having that much cold medicine dropped down into your tummy isn’t as pleasant an experience as you might think. For one thing the guy in the truck doing the dumping wasn’t careful at all and he ran over the begonia bush and for another, do you have any idea the size of the hose you need to jam into your mouth in order to swallow a dump truck full of cold medicine? Though it also begs the question, “Who carries a metric ton of Benedryl Cold pills in the back of a dump truck, anyway?” Isn’t that somehow unsanitary or something? AND! I have a sore throat, too and it hurts to swallow. But most of all you should know that I’m all strung out on cold meds and cough syrup. Yeah, you might have been able to guess that, you are SO sharp! Seriously, this is all stream of consciousness, I’m not coming back and editing one character of this, though there is a small part of my brain, screaming right now, telling me that I’ll live to regret ever having given “voice” to this inner monologue of mine, sans mental filters and so-called reason. And judicious editing. Screw that! Let’s see what happens!

So I have this cold which makes me miserable. I went to work yesterday, sat down and thought, “this is not going to work out well at all today,” so I came home, napped, yelled at the youngsters to “pipe down for Zoraster’s sake hanging out on a park bench” and woke up in the afternoon, feeling even more miserable than I did in the morning, if you can believe that. And I almost cut my finger off the other day. Remember I told you about that? (I know, not one of my better posts, but I was in PAIN! And you know, we pros play through the PAIN) Well, now it HURTS. EVEN worse-r. Actually, it’s not so much that it hurts a lot, it’s that my pinky finger feels like it wants to throb itself right off my hand. And how is it to type, you may ask? (My aren’t you full of questions today?) Well, I’m not going to lie to you, it hurts a lot. But, again, I play through the pain, my delicious friends, I play through the pain.

Yeah, yeah, I know, I sound totally pathetic and I should just get over it, it’s just a cold after all. It could be much worse, I could be Rush Limbaugh, after all. I mean, I’m going to get over this cold eventually, but odds are, he’s going to be the way he is for a LONG time. There’s no cure for whatever horrible mental affliction he’s got going on over there, after all.

Hold on just a sec.

I just realized that I said “worse-r” up there earlier and technically that isn’t a real word, it’s just a word I made up one day when Reha and I were having a fight way back in the Dark Ages when we were engaged. I had done something stupid and had hurt her feelings. Or something. I can’t remember exactly, what with the passage of time and all the cold meds coursing through my veins right now, but I’m pretty sure whatever we were fighting about was entirely my fault. You could even say that whole “being all my fault” thing became a somewhat re-occuring theme in our relationship. But I bet if you asked her, she’d be able to remember the dumb thing I said/did/thought.

What was I talking about?

Oh. Yeah. The thing about that word. “Worse-r”

So we are in her bedroom in her apartment and I’m sitting on her bed and she’s over there by the closet. Try and picture it. It’s a bit crowded in there. Me (I had hair back then and I had been told by reputable witnesses that I had a modicum of cuteness about me), Re (she looks essentially the same. Radiant and lovely and shimmering in the distance, much like a faery queen, only taller and not a faery at all, much more brunette and without little wings sprouting from her back like faeries have, though it would have been totally bitchin’ if she had wings, you know, but get that image out of your head, it’s just Re, over there by the closet, peeved as all get out at me), a desk (standard desk, nothing special about the desk at all, not even sure why I brought it up), the stupid thing I did which was kind of psychically hanging around in the air beginning to suffocate us as it permeated every molecule in the room, a bed (twin size) and various knick-knacks which don’t have any real bearing on the story other than I like the sound the words “knick-knacks” makes inside my head right now. Anyway. I can barely breath in the room, it’s so cramped in there! She says something, though I have no idea what she said, but I do have perfect clarity about what I said in response to her:

“What do you want me to do? Feel worser?”

Thank you ladies and gentlemen, sixteen or so years of education and I can’t even conjugate verbs properly. That noise you just heard was every English teacher or Professor I ever had falling over and stabbing themselves in the ears to try and block out the sound of my horrible grammar. Say it again, out loud, to get the full effect, “worse-r.” Seriously, I’m dead lucky she even married me after that. The stupid thing I did was nothing compared to how dorky and imbecilic I sounded with “worser” on my lips.

Anyway…

So yeah, I’ve had a few too many cold pills. I’m just going to hit “publish” and see where the chips fall.

Mmmm! Chips! I need to go to the store for some of those “Hint of Lime” tortilla chips. Is the store still open? Can someone drive me to the store, please? I can’t seem to make the keys fit into the little ignition hole doo-dad to start the car.

Jon scribbled this mess on 07/31/07 at 12:30 AM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

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