I've been sick for the past few days in the weirdest way. I woke up 7am Wednesday morning stuffy, scratchy and sore, after having awoken many times during the night for funtimes coughing fits. I stumbled into the bathroom where I always have a bottle of Nyquil waiting for me -- yes, RED is the only way to be! -- to find about half a shot left. Dammit. Called off work and went back to sleep.
I'm one of those people who doesn't use an alarm clock. I didn't think that was all that unusual -- when I wake up, I just naturally know what time it is. I knew something was up when I re-awoke on Wednesday with no idea what time it was. I tested myself, lying there in bed trying to take a stab at it before looking at the clock. It could have been 9am. It could have been noon. It could have been 4pm for all I could tell. Turns out, it was about 1.30pm.
I rolled off the edge of my bed (it's a low bed) and directly into another coughing fit. I made it as far as the living room after a couple of tries, into the loving arms of my sofa and awaiting kitty, where after about a half hour, I fell asleep again. I woke up after another couple of hours, thought about getting something to eat, realized I had nothing in the house and standing upright made my chest/lungs really mad at me, so had a glass of water aaaaaand... back to sleep. Repeat that 3 or 4 times and that was my whole day Wednesday.
Thursday, I woke at the usual time, feeling... somewhat rebounded. Made it in to work and everything. You know what's really great? When you go to work and people stop in their tracks and say, "Ooooh, how are you feeling?" Feeling like I should have stayed home, I'm thinking. By and large, I felt *okay*, I just had the occasional coughing spat that made me really light-headed. Aside from that, I'm pretty sure I did my job and all... or maybe I was too dizzy to realize how much I was screwing up.
The best thing about making it to work on Thursday, though, was that I was able to also make it to the drug store. If they sold Nyquil by the drum... Got my hit, crashed out hard while trying desperately to watch "Project Runway." Dreamed about ostrich-propelled vehicles.
Friday morning, I figured I'd be good because, well, I made it out of the house Thursday after all! But I definitely did not... feel... right. For one thing, I'd slept on my back all night, flat on my back, and I was pretty sure I had not moved once in 8 hours. When I did move, I realized why that had probably been the case. Ugh. Everything sore, everything coughy. But the best part was when I groaned to myself. It was, like... subsonic. Have you seen the stories about this whole "secret language" of elephants, where they can ultra-low-rumble to each other over distances of miles? I'm pretty sure there's a bull elephant in Kenya who is wondering why he keeps hearing his name. Made me laugh. Which, of course, launched a coughing fit.
I called off work again, if for no other reason than just to have a record of me as a cartoon villain. Took another shot, flopped back over, direct to zzzzzs. And again, awoke thinking, what, noon? One? Ten am it was. No voice at all, probably forced out by the softballs taking up all that space in my throat. Took a nice warm shower and thought, okay, I've got the whole day here, I should at least be able to get something done around the place. I re-cleaned my oil lamp -- there's a post coming about that, honest -- and did a load of dishes. That was EXHAUSTING. Back to sleep. Woke up, had some popcorn chicken, aaaaaand... back to sleep. This is the weirdest "cold" or whatever it is that I've ever had. I mean, even the CAT is like, "Really? Sleeping again? I mean, I'm all for a good nap now and then, but are you EVER going to get off the couch?"
It's Friday night now, and I am just plain confused. At one point, I woke up on the sofa thinking it was the middle of the night, only to find the room bathed in sunlight. I'm as awake right now, at nearly midnight, as I've been in several days. I can't really tell whether I'm hungry (I hope not, because I've long since made it through all the chicken) or if I should take some more of the red stuff and corpse out for another 10 or 16 hours.
Well, since the very process of writing this launched me into another coughing fit, I'm going to go with... zzzzzzzzzzzzz.