Thursday, December 27th, 2012
I need to rant. One of my new year’s “efforts” is to not complain so much and be grateful more often, but it’s still 2012 and I have a blog — that’s what they’re for, no? With that said…
I am the worst at being sick. I can’t sit still, and I always seem to get sick at the most inopportune times — like Christmas. The ENTIRE 4-day Christmas break, I was laid up on the sofa watching endless repeats of The Help. I love that movie, but if I have to hear about Minnie’s shit pie one more time this week, I may riot.
So, Christmas Day, we go to Mikey‘s family’s house, like we usually do. I am feeling much better, so I rally, grab my Ricola and off we go. We have some dry turkey and a lovely time (albeit short — only like 90 minutes) and then head home, back to the couch, where “Minnie don’t burn chicken”.
Yesterday, since I was well enough to go to the family’s, I figured I should go to work. I have a project that is in its end stages and I really, really need to move on to the other projects in my queue before they riot. So I did — for 13 hours. Probably not the smartest move ever, but things need to get done.
Cut to last night, between midnight and 4am when I am throwing a naked tantrum in the bedroom because I can’t stop coughing. CAN’T. STOP. COUGHING. That hacking, dry, tickling, annoying cough that feels like you might split the back of your throat open like old wood. Every single time I’d lie may head against the pillow… cough. Cough cough cough. Cough enough to sit up. Cough enough to get in a coughing fit and pull a muscle in your back. Suck on a cough drop… suck on another one… wonder if you’ll get a tumor from all the cough drops… cough cough cough. Spill the water fumbling for a tissue. CURSE REALLY LOUDLY. Get your bearings, calm the eff down enough to lie back down again… only to start anew. I violently punched a pillow last night at least 4 times, enraged at my inability to stop coughing. God, I just wanted to sleep, that’s all I wanted.
Again I say, WTF?
So finally, after Nyquil and cough syrup and enough Ricola to fill a very large man’s lederhosen, I finally, mercifully, fall asleep…. until the smoke alarm battery alert starts to beep around 4am.
Whomever invented those whores must have it set on a timer to go off in the middle of the night. It never fails. Every single time I’ve had to replace a smoke alarm battery, it’s told me in the middle of the night. What is that about? WHY DO YOU HATE ME, SMOKE ALARM PEOPLE?
Anyway, I tried to not get upset. I didn’t want to open my mouth or change my position lest I wake the undead in my throat, waiting for any opportunity to start the coughing again. I tried to be zen about it.
*Beep* Breathe… 2… 3… 4… maybe it’s not so ba- *Beep* Breathe… 2… 3…4… just try to fall back to sleep, I think maybe it sto- *Beep* Fuck.
Mike, of course, was sawing logs next to me, completely oblivious. That man can sleep through Armageddon. Actually, everyone can sleep through Armageddon. That movie sucked.
Miraculously, I managed to tune it out enough to sleep until 7:30, when I calmly walked nude through the apartment to find a 9-volt battery and the stepstool so I could change that motherbitch before I threw the smoke alarm off the balcony.
I’m supposed to work today and then go to a party tonight. I actually feel ok, other than being righteously tired. My throat feels like I’ve been sucking cough drops made of glass, and I’m still coughing, but nothing like at night when I lie down. Fortunately, the party is early and mellow, so I can probably still make it (I missed most of Christmas and I have no New Year’s Eve plans, so I’m taking this one).
Assuming zombies don’t fly out of my throat and try to kill everyone.