Home Sick

Nah, I don't mean I miss home, I mean I am at home.. sick. This sure has made the weekend exciting.

I cruised into my garage on Thursday after work, feeling like crap, and haven't left the premises since. Bed, shower, couch, bed. My life for the past two days. I'm a little peeved that my entire weekend is blown, but you know when you feel so sick that you really can't fathom doing much else and then trying to fathom all of that just makes you tired and you fall asleep with the TV remote in one hand and that little Nyquil measuring cup in the other hand.

I actually did wake up this morning (er, afternoon) with red stains on my white sheets from the cherry Nyquil I had consumed before falling asleep last night. I don't know how or why, but the nature of the stains and their position in relation to my nightstand where the Nyquil was sitting makes NO sense at all. Something, apparently, is INDEED "going around" and it smacked me right in the face. I have never purchased facial tissue in my life. Is that weird? I think the last time I purchased Kleenex was when I was in grade school and my mom would take me school supply shopping. Remember how on the required supply list every year was the typical basics plus one box of Kleenex? Anyway, that's the last time I bought facial tissue and technically my mom bought it then anyway. I just thought of that because I've been blowing my nose with toilet paper for the past 3 days. To me, buying facial tissue seems like an extravagant waste. Yet I blow at least 4 dollars a day on coffee. Somehow I feel like I'm killing two birds with one stone by just using the toilete tissue that I'm already in possession of.

So you might think, seeing as how I'm sick and staring at the wall all day, that I would have come up with something clever to say. I'm a captive audience right now to all of my thoughts and yet the congestion in my head has literally dulled my sense of humor. Drunken phone calls from friends at 1:30 in the morning, telling me they wish I was out having fun with them, make me feel so warm inside yet so pissed off that I'm curled up in my Nyquil stained sheets coughing so hard that shards of my lung literally fly out my nose. Rolling around in bed for two days is irritating; first too warm, then too cold, then warm, then cold. I swear it's like a metaphor for my relationship with my mother growing up. Okay, just kidding. Saw the shot and took it. Joke joke, love you mom.

I think in the very near future (no promises, but maybe tomorrow) I will be back to write something more interesting. I've been thinking a lot lately about the concept of perception being reality. Talk amongst yourselves, using 12-inch voices, and I'll be back to discuss in more detail.

Maybe I will talk about my friends and I venturing to the far west suburbs to go outlet shopping the other evening. Maybe I will tell you tales of the 13 police officers in my building's lobby the night before last. Who knows, remind me to talk about all of these things at a later time.

For now, on this lovely Chicago Saturday night, I will consume a shot of Nyquil instead of vodka. I will breathe in the air from my humidifier rather than second hand smoke at a bar. I'll fall asleep before 3am for the first time I can remember on a weekend night. Tomorrow I wont have a headache from a hangover, but rather congestion in my sinus cavities. Somehow I'd rather suffer the consequences of the fun-bar-good-time than the crap that's coming along with this cold. Being forced to be completely lazy and sit for hours watching TV only stopping to fall asleep periodically or receive delivery food at my front door? Not ALL that bad. My body is clearly telling me I've needed a break anyway.

We'll catch ya on the flip side crackerjack.
M.db