Maybe its going back to work that has me thrown, but I just can't seem to get all my parts running at the same time. As I moaned to motoboy one frigid morning: "I feel like I'm falling apart!" Oh the drama.
If you will allow me to start my week on Sunday, wherein I woke up in a cozy two bedroom apartment in New York City (A and I were taking it over from Nurse Susie's boyfriend for the weekend) I will tell you how I thought I might die. I woke up feeling fine enough, considering the cold that was settling into my chest. I suspect A's boyfriend coughs a bit here and there too, because she slept through all the night's hackings. I woke up and took some ibuprofen for the swollen glands, and the two zinc prescribed by Sara W's mom. She had given me about 1/8 of her bottle on the Friday, when I was staying at their house, and instructed me to take two pills in the morning, two in the afternoon, and two in the evening. Not bothering to look at the doseage on this particular bottle, I had been following this regimen. As we were discussing brunch options, a severe pain attacked my stomach region. I thought it might be gas and waited...and then it struck again. Soon enough I found myself in the teeny tiny bathroom, where I was stuck for about two hours, on and off. There would be no brunch for me. I took breaks on the couch, A. supplying me with pepto and green tea she secured from the neighborhood shops six flights below. She is going to be a good mom. But it seemed all wrong, her standing there seven months pregnant and me, lying on the couch, gripping my stomach screaming, "here comes another one!" By the time we made our rounds that morning and picked up the girls to head to Rhode Island, I knew it was the zinc. I had Kerry confirm it on her iphone in the car. No offense to Sara's mom but, why is she trying to kill me? I automatically win all your momma jokes for at least another year. "Your momma is so fat..." Oh yeah? Well your momma tried to poison me! How did you survive childhood???
The zinc poisoning subsided by Monday morning, but the cold and the cough and the runny nose persisted. We went shopping in a mall in Providince, which was surprisingly good fun, and the sales were fantastic. Remind me to show off my new fashion coat. Monday night I drowned my cough in Jameson and gingers with Kerry and her toy making friends, and Tuesday we took off for Chicago. We got a lift from the airport from motoboy in our new car, which was a nice welcome. However, one of my ears was completely blocked from the pressure in the plane, and I tried everything from hydrogen peroxide to gently blowing my face up like a cartoon character. I could hardly hear anything but decided it would get better in time.
Wednesday I accidentally left my keys with motoboy as he was trying, very chivalrously, to start the car and lock it while he cleaned off the snow and came back up for his stuff. Alas, I got dropped off at the train stop with no keys. So after a few drinks after work where new awesome web producer friend gave Sara and I vintage dresses (I couldn't turn down free dresses) I stopped over at his to get my keys and...well the car wouldn't start in the morning.
Which meant Thursday I was dressed like an advertising creative - a male one. I wasn't quite outfitted to wear a vintage party dress in this weather. My jeans, his thermal shirts and hoodie completed my look. I tried to make it all work with some earrings and bright lipstick but it was -17 degrees outside so who was I kidding? No one cared. And although I was feeling really horrible, I finally got the good stuff from the drug store (psudoephadrine is the only thing to clear those blocked ears). The result was a wobbly, weak feeling, so I tried to keep myself hydrated, because the girls had planned a nice wine bar outing to celebrate my return to the mothership. I now realized, however, that in the bottom of the bag at motoboy's that held all the vintage dresses, was a smaller bag that I had brought to work with me the day before, which held my cell phone charger. My phone was dead and would be for the rest of the night and the next day. Oh well.
Friday was blessedly Friday even though I had only worked three days this week. I really needed it to be Friday. Going in to work is a really comfortable thing, and as I'm mostly doing paperwork and backup and I had no stress about it. However, by 3.30 or so I was feeling a bit woozy. But working a day rate, I didn't want to leave early. Besides, I had three days of rest to make sure I get over this hump.
I stayed in Friday night, but was up half the night coughing.
Saturday I rested on the couch and finished watching Friday night's Persepolis (which was excellent, and HAND DRAWN), and motoboy came over to rub my feet and join me in lounging. We were meant to go to a wine and wig party but I just didn't want to risk it. So I sent him off wth his ridiculous barrister's wig and fell asleep. For a few hours on the couch. Then getting into bed I laid there for an HOUR coughing, worrying that I was waking up the 70+ years old man upstairs. Then I woke up at 4am, 5.30, and then thankfully not again until 10am. Mind you, those that know me and are judging me, I hadn't had a cigarette since early Friday evening. And now I'm not sure that even helped.
Because here we are on Sunday and I am so PISSED. I am angry. I realize now that me not getting any sleep without good reason (wicked party, late night shanagins, really good book, reality TV marathon) makes me angry. Poor motoboy called and asked if I wanted any company. I said I wasn't really sure. Because if he came over I'd be forced to shower, and to try to be presentable and not mean. And frankly, I wasn't in the mood for not being mean. So I told him to call me after dinner, a dinner I was invited to as well and decided not to go to as they have twins under the age of one. I felt I was a little mean to him, but thought it was best I sequester myself then. I finally got up to do some dishes, take out the completely dried out Christmas tree, and go to the store to get some flour for my sourdough starter experiement. The buzzer was going just as I had dragged the tree throughout the entire apartment, leaving half of said tree all over the apartment floor. I was blocked out on the outside of the back door so I left it. Got the tree down the stairs, throwing anything in my way not just out of the way, but slamming against the wall first. Got the tree in the alley and threw out the sheet I had used to half way wrap it up. Text from motoboy: I guess you're sleeping, I was just there to leave you a present. Awwwww. But what timing! Right when I was feeling like punching someone! So I called him and he was still on my block and he drove me to the store and gave me flowers.
And this is what I bitch I was: secretly I didn't want to carry the flowers in the store and then home with two pounds of flour. But I did! And kissed him goodbye, and when I was crossing the street a cab stopped directly in my way, who I yelled at, and I hoped he didn't hear that.
I got home and kicked the cat and cleaned up all the Christmas needles and then I realized something. The reason why I was so grumpy. Despite my bronchitis, I needed a goddam cigarette or something was going to get broken.
And I smoked it, and my head cleared, literally I could hear my ears clearing out, and I calmed down and I put my flowers in a vase and made a hot whiskey and thought, I love my boyfriend so much. I'm feeling better. I'm going to be better tomorrow. All is ok.
This too, my friends, is sadly, how Obama keeps his cool as well. After a week like mine, I'm not beating myself up too badly about it.
E.
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