Remember last week on Tuesday when I was sick in bed? Well, I am presently sucking back a Bolthouse Farms Berry Boost Fruit Smoothie, which contains 500% of my daily vitamin C requirement, in the hopes that it will help me make it through the workday. (That Bolthouse Farms mention? I promise that that was completely unsolicited. I am just a Bolthouse Farms lover and like to give away free advertising while I figure out how to afford a decent computer and buy new glasses when the lenses alone are approximately $125 each. I am nice that way).
This is my EIGHTH DAY with this blasted cold virus, and all I want to do physically is sleep, and I must stress "physically", because what this cold has done to my dreams over the last eight days is completely ungood psychologically. I sweat and roll around all night, and not in any hot heterosexual action kind of way but in a fighting-for-my-sanity kind of way. Here are a few examples from my illness-induced dreams:
The Palinode has had to shake me awake a couple of times when I have cried out in my sleep over being forced into deathly tunnels or strangling baby koalas. Yeesh.
The sleeping aspect of this cold is officially NOT WORKING OUT, which means that the being awake part of this cold is also officially NOT WORKING OUT. I cannot concentrate long enough to finish the pair of arm warmers I need finish for a customer or to work on the website design for another customer that I was going to finish this weekend or to put my freaking painkillers in my freaking purse because I HURT. From my head to my toes, I ache as though I have been on a forced march while dragging supplies through mud for three days; I am a serf at the feet of my viral lord. Every muscle in me is asking Why, why, why are we sitting up? We should be lying down! And resting! Even if it means we must dream of cuddling into the warm underbelly of a giant mother tarantula.
Despite this, I was planning on entertaining you with a photograph of what I was up to one year ago. I receive a Photojojo Photo Time Capsule in an e-mail every two weeks, which includes the most interesting photos from one year ago from my Flickr account, and I thought surely this would save me from having to use the aching rock I have attached to this stiff stump of a neck of mine. Do you know what Photojojo told me I was up to around this time last year? This:
I was doing dishes. And then you know what?
I got wrinkly fingers while I washed those dishes.
My life is freaking genius.
After work, I am going to the drugstore to pick up a cold remedy so that I can start hacking away at some of the projects on which I am working, but I am not sure which one will do the trick. Benylin 1 Cold & Flu gets me stoned (in a very nice way, mind you, but not one that is conducive to getting anything done, like figuring out what the first half of my sentence was so that I can say the second half without looking like I have gone catatonic), and I cannot take anything that has echinacea in it, because I am allergic to it. Any suggestions?
This Schmutzie's got stuff to accomplish, and it is not going to happen without some fine pharmaceuticals.