|Killing time because it feels like it's killing me
||[Mar. 8th, 2013|02:27 pm]
Oh, hell, is it really only noon? I feel as I’ve been here for days, not a measly five hours. Time fails to fly when you feel awful.
Most people go on vacation and bring back souvenirs…I bring back the plague. Well, not really, although I’m trying to resist the urge to leaf through my copy of The Stand and match my symptoms up against Captain Trips. Just my body trying to drown itself in snot. I’m grateful that it waited until the day we were supposed to be leaving to rear its ugly head and claim my sinuses. Although because of the theoretical snowstorm, we couldn’t get a flight back east until a day and a half later. I know, stranded in Hawaii, cry me a river.
But when I’m sick, all I want to do is find some empty, abandoned badger den, crawl inside and wall it up from the inside. I’ll emerge when I’m better or when I’m dead. The latter case assuming I’m the second coming…otherwise, I’ll probably just moulder in there. Don’t look at me, don’t talk to me, I’m just going to put myself in isolation, be gross, and not come back until I’m human again.
Which explains why I’m at work today. No, I would love to be home, in bed. But thanks to the theoretical snow, that was another PTO day burned, and there’s a lot going on this year, so I need to conserve. Also, having been out of the office for a week, there is definitely some stuff that just couldn’t wait until next week. Even if it means running to the bathroom every half hour to expel half my frontal lobe into a tissue. Seriously, I swear my sinuses are a bag of holding for…well, let’s not get any grosser. (I gave you a hint, above, that Captain Trips was a Stephen King reference. Here, I’ll flat out tell you that a bag of holding in D&D is a be-spelled bag that holds more than is possible, fitting say four barrels of ale and three geese into a shoulder bag.) How big is this cold? Four barrels and three geese, apparently.
I’m trying to isolate myself, tissues in one pocket, hand sanitizer in the other, but I have to make occasional forays out – I really don’t like blowing my nose in public. But then I run the gauntlet of well-meaning colleagues “hey, omigosh, I hope you feel better than you look!” For the record, dear colleague, I felt better a few minutes ago when I thought that, despite FEELING like ass, at least I was holding appearances together. Now that you’ve affirmed that I also LOOK like ass, well….THANKS. THANKS A LOT.
Let’s also ponder the irony that the perfume samples I ordered from London have finally arrived and….yep, can’t really smell them. Postponing joy? Not my strong suit.
I have no diet update. I ate and drank myself around the island of Oahu several times. There will be punitive salads this weekend. Not that I don’t like salads, but not really being able to smell means not being able to taste, so all the joys of a salad are going to be lost on me, and my mouth really just craves fat and salt, since it can hone in on those, nose or no nose.
Biggest bummer is that this is totally overshadowing happy memories of a stress-free vacation (although the pessimist in me is already crowing “see, see what happens when you take a leisurely vacation? It makes you SICK!”). But this is the weekend I finally break down and hook up the new computer (oh, the challenges involved when you wait so long to buy new technology that your new and old technology can’t even really talk to each other anymore…sigh) and then I upload my vacation pictures and relive it a bit. Ah, even there, for a moment I remembered a brilliant passion fruit and lavender mojito – I don’t normally condone messing around with a mojito, but that was a lovely drink. Lovelier, for certain, when drunk underneath a big banyan tree, accompanied by island music and the sound of surf…but I still think it’ll hold up in cat-hair laden, ambient mid-atlantic suburb soundtrack situations.