Thursday
I tried to write. Couldn't. I physically could not type. I had no feeling in my arms -- Alavert is super effective, but the side effects are terrible -- so I didn't actually know where my fingers were on the keyboard. I'd make like three mistakes in a row, look back at a sentence thta looked spmthing like thhis, and go to hit \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ before realizing that "backspace" was the key above it. By the end of the first paragraph, I'd gotten so frustrated with my fingers that the words they were clicking out were angrier than anything worth publishing. For me, anyways. I know some of you are into that hate-blogging trash. I don't discriminate.
Friday
The plan was to wake up when my alarm went off and write about my dream, if I could remember it, or whatever idiotic drowsy thoughts were running through my head if I couldn't. I had the idea while I was falling asleep the night before. It was gonna be funny, I'd told myself. I couldn't remember if Dimetapp night-time had any effect on dreams, but I remembered the grogginess pretty well, so I knew that whatever I wrote was going to be some grade-A material. I ended up waking up three hours before my alarm, coughing louder than my sister's dog barks and holding my hand up to my nose while I looked for a box of tissues or some toilet paper that could catch the river of mucus my nose decided was necessary. I cleaned myself up, took another Alavert, and made some Irish Breakfast Tea to help with the sinus headache. My alarm went off at 10, which was about when I realized I'd forgotten to do something.
Saturday
I wanted to write about the beauty of friendship. It was gonna be one of those ultra-sappy blogs, thanking those closest to me for their positive contributions to my life, publicly displaying my affection to them, and publicly bragging to everybody else that I had friends. It would have brought tears to their eyes and groans to the throats of anybody else who read it... if I were good at articulating emotion, that is. To be honest, I just didn't know what words to use, and even if I did I would have rather said them in person. It was moot anyways. It turns out, staying awake after taking Dimetapp night-time makes typing even more difficult than Alavert does. Honestly, they give that stuff to children!?
Sunday
I probably could have written something really entertaining, but I don't really remember what I was thinking about. I spent most of the day playing Need for Speed on my xbox after calling off of work. I told Kim I couldn't come in because I was too sick to function normally, but that was only partially true. In reality, my dad gave me this loratadine tablet with twice as much loratadine as Alevert (and none of the pseudo ephedrine), and the stuff was so strong that I felt like I'd dunked my brain in a half gallon of Jack Daniels and held it there until it could absorb the whole thing. I fell asleep around 7, so I didn't really have the time to write anything anyways.
Monday
I actually did go to work the next morning. We finally got daytime Dimetapp, pleasing and well-medicating the child inside of me. It was my first lunch shift in about two months, and I'd forgotten just how entertaining the people who come through the drive thru during the day are. I was already writing a blog about them in my head when I realized that I totally already wrote one about crazy drive thru patrons. Dismayed, I went home and played Need For Speed for like five hours. Its mind-numbing simplicity is more addictive than cocaine, but I probably should have turned down the volume on all of those crashes and police sirens for the sake of my sinus headache... It was nothing that two Tylenol couldn't solve, though.
Tuesday
This morning I woke up and felt "better," so I didn't take any medicine. Maybe that's why my mind was actually clear enough for me to write something.
