|And then I got punished for having too much fun
||[Aug. 6th, 2012|03:58 pm]
No, I don't believe that. Colds are cause by viruses, not retribution. But the Lutheran runs deep. |
I haven't been this sick in I don't know how long. I have spent the better part of three days in bed. (Alone, assuming you're not counting cats and boxes of tissue.) A whole weekend. My own time. Not sleeping, really, since for two days I couldn't manage more than an hour without waking up, choking, gasping, and drowning in my own bodily fluids.
(Oh, I'm sorry, am I grossing you out? Hang on, there may be some sympathy left underneath this heap of wadded tissues...nope, my bad, I used it all up on ME.)
Those of you who've found me a little bit callous and cold, when I state that I'm not very patient with lingering illnesses in others and think that perhaps I toss the word "euthanasia" around too lightly...you'll be please to know that yesterday I thought, okay if this doesn't start turning around tomorrow, I'm going to just off myself because I am not putting up with this expletive any longer. My appalling lack of patience applies even to me. Although those of you to whom I owe money or other favors will be please to know that while I still feel horrible, it's vaguely less horrible, so I suspect I will recover.
It's just a damn cold, but a really nasty one. And I don't do sick very well. Shuffling around the house, muttering to myself, tissues wadded up each nostril, trying to get some minor chore done, coughing and sneezing and wheezing. And mean. Oh, you have no idea. I resent the hell out of being sick at any time. But let's look at the calendar, shall we? I have seven weekends to get EVERYTHING done between the two faire seasons. So, the first weekend we had no power. The second weekend I had no air conditioning. The third weekend, I had no air conditioning for half of it. The fourth weekend I went on vacation. The fifth weekend I spent wheezing around the house, drowning in my own effluence, fantasizing about drilling into my own sinuses with kitchen implements. Two left, my friends. Let's subtract social events and faire prep and whoops, two days. If resentment were three dimensional, I'd have a seven foot yeti shambling behind me, whacking his head on the door frames.
Not to mention (why do we use that phrase? It's always a prelude to, well, mentioning something.) after eating my way up and down the east coast, being completely calorically self-indulgent, and gaining only one pound...I've put another four on in one weekend because I have no sense of taste whatsoever, but that hasn't stopped me from trying every food item in the house, just in case. And the sleep deprivation is leading to bad choices -- I've been carb-loading like a long distance runner. (Do they still do that? Poor carbs, they've gotten such a bad rap, mostly because we tend to pick out all the cheap, easy ones. We're like frat boys set loose in the city with a spending account.)
Anyway. I actually had a three hour nap this morning, so things must be improving, and the epicenter has moved from my sinuses down to my chest, so I can breathe, as long as I do it slowly and gently and don't wake up the swamp thing that's living in my lungs right now.
But really, three days, wasted! Too sick/sleep-deprived to write, to do anything that requires a brain, mindless yardwork, housecleaning...yesterday I disassembled and reassembled a dresser and you would have thought I'd...okay, if you want any further proof of lack of stamina, I can't think of a metaphor and am rapidly loosing interest in finding one and better go lay down now.