A WEEKEND OF THE SICKIES

[disclaimer: written while on heavy meds earlier this weekend]

THE PAST THIRTY HOURS HAVE GONE AS FOLLOWS:
Wake up and realize that in one hour thirty minutes the go-cart needs to be pulling into the parking lot across from Founders Square Plaza. Feel head-- sense that head is hot and pounding. Sneeze—sense that nose is running. Quickly… and too quickly tumble out of bed—feel dizzy—feel nauseous but resist urge to puke. Locate Kleenex box and swipe tissue. Shakily melt back into bed. Shove Kleenex up nostrils and continue to doze… making sure to breath through mouth.

Awake to craptacular mini-me cell phone steadily buzzing. Realize that piece of cellular phone bit has mysteriously broken off into bedsheets and now is only attached by one copper wire. Bitch! Search party ends as soon as it begins... no luck. Assume mountain pose in hopes to stretch out all the achy. Mountain pose abandoned. Perhaps pose only works while standing up and not lying in bed. Make mid-morning texts with Kleenex still shoved up nose. No matter what people think, this is not cute. Sigh, toss, turn, toss, toss, turn-- Mountain pose again and finally depart Memory Foam coziness.

MORNING AT WORK:
Feel as if pounding head is swaying back and forth but really is not. Eyes glazed over at laptop in attempts to upload artwork to printer. Feel drained. Head feels stuffy—sense that coworkers sense I am out of it. I’m-glad-I’m-not-all-that-blond thought registers. Trip to office kitchen to get ice to crunch. (this is a personal pet peeve and is bad on teeth but I don’t care) Need home, need bed, and need drugs.

TWO HOURS LATER:
Rotate and lower all blinds downward—in desperate need of darkness. Feel as if I’m turning into a vampire, except for the blood part. Eyeballs hurt to look up and medicine is not kicking in quickly enough. Lie down onto bed, wearing thneed, and put hands over eyes. Ouch, achiness is miserable.

MIDDAY:
Asnooze.

SIX PM:
Make unwanted trip to Wal-Mart to pick up noodle soup and Sprite. Receive compliment from checker outer man-- He likes my style and hat. Nice guy. What style is he referring to again? (style of a sick person includes being covered up as much as possible, head to toe topped with a hat because no one needs to see baggy, saggy, watery eyes) Maybe he’s into that look. IDK. “Thanks” I tell him and manage a courtesy smile as he hands me my bag of feel good.

NIGHT:
Heat wave takes over when Friend comes over. Skin feels hot as a sunburn and coughs are wheezy like I’ve hit the smokes since I was ten. Not the best of circumstances but we deal. Friend seems to embrace the out-of-ness more than myself. Falls asleep—And I listen. Not a bad listen. Not like when my dad snores and scares the whole family away.

LATER THAT NIGHT:
Still feel like crap. Am contemplative. Friend has left-- senses momentary sadness. Quickly discourages thoughts knowing Friend will be back soon to say “Hi”. Busy self placing leftover energy into homeade playdough on stove. For Ckids. Neon colors. Purple, pink, green, and blue.

SIGNED: TO BE FOLLOWED UP WITH A SUPER BOWL SUNDAY SICKNESS POST