Tuesday, December 12, 2006
The nighttime sniffling sneezing coughing aching fever entry
I. Can. Not. Be. Sick. Now. I haven't even put together a rough draft of an Xmas list. Gotta risk spraining a ligament to get icicle lights perfectly symmetrical around my awning. I have places to go and about 4 more entries to type. This can't be happening. I cannot get sick, you hear me, body? WE cannot get sick.
But we are.
I used to know how to be sick gracefully. I would simply accept the inevitable, guzzle down enough Robitussin to tranquilize a wilderbeast and curl up with a good book or two.
Three days later, I'd be back to my footloose and fancy free self with Boy George cooing, "it's a miracle!"
Now it's a task easier said than done. I'm seriously lacking sleep, e-mails are piling up. Just thinking about the deadlines I've already missed jacks my temp up another degree and a half. I start swilling poppin' Benadryls like Lindsay Lohan after dark and giving myself pep talks.
Come on, stop being a baby and pull yourself together. Look on the bright side, sippin' on that DayQuil sizurp has made small talk at the water cooler like an outtake from Half Baked.
But so far the pep talk isn't working nearly as hard as the germs are. You'd think those stubborn mucus membranes were being paid overtime or expecting Christmas bonuses.
So my whining will be brief. This is what happens when the cold and flu season smacks you behind the legs with a baseball bat. YOU FALL THE FUCK DOWN. On some real Donnie McClurkin shit.
All chicken noodle soup donations (without the soda on the side) are accepted.
- commented at 12/30/2006 01:24:00 PM~
Girl, DayQuil doesn't do a thing for me, it's all about NyQuil....
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