Adventures in Being Under the Weather

I'm sick. It bites. And a lot of stuff that's no fun. I've been tentatively diagnosed with tonsillitis so for once, I'm going to stick up for myself and place the blame entirely on my freakishly large tonsils. I'll probably pay for that later...they're rather ill-natured and vengeful sometimes.

So I've been sick since Sunday. And it bites. We've already established that so moving on. Here's a typical day in the life of Yours Truly so far during the week of May 13th through...well, now. Ahem:

I wake up and look at the clock: it's 5:19 AM. I'm momentarily confused as I look outside and think, wow it's dark to be the middle of the afternoon. I obviously napped longer than I thought I would. Wait a sec...it's 5:19 AM (5:20 usually by this point) and it's ten minutes till my alarm was set to go off. I flop back on my pillows (I sleep on two of 'em...makes me feel very indulgent and extravagant) and grumble furiously to myself, eyebrows furrowing in aggravation even though my eyes themselves are stubbornly closed. Why the CRAP does this keep happening to me?? I wake up just before my alarm goes off. This stinks. Now I can't even enjoy the snooze button....one of the few remaining enjoyments in life when you're sick and pretending to be well. That's right, I'm telling myself I'm not sick. In about 8 minutes, I'm going to get up and take a shower and go through the whole ritual of getting ready for work, even though I generally feel like poop warmed over. My head's throbbing and I'm still not sitting up. Maybe it'll pass. I go ahead and get up to go through the aforementioned ritual and eventually head off to work at the ripe old hour of 7:00....head still throbbing. I'm going to work! I'm a tenacious little worker bee! My boss should LOVE me. I can't stand the thought of the voicemails and emails I must've been racking up during the time I've already been out this week so I'm going to TAKE CARE OF BUSINESS. Yes sir! The commute is lovely as usual....throb, throb, throb. Once again, my theory is confirmed that NO ONE who drives a Lexus SUV can drive well. It's a scientific fact, realized over almost two years of commuting to Cary. Anyway. I get to work and plod down the hall, head down to avoid the glare of the fluorescent lights.
"What are you doing here, Sloan?" I hear shouted from more than one office as I pass. I much prefer the "Feeling better Sloan?" I hear from a few others. This morning, I get a look of exasperation from my boss. "Melissa, why aren't you at home?" she asks. Honestly, I don't know. Something about voicemails and horrendous guilt? "I just felt a little better this morning and decided to come in and catch up on some phone calls and see how I do," I respond unconvincingly. My boss eyes me much like a Mom would who just busted a child breaking curfew. "Well you're an adult and I can't tell you what to do but if you're still sick, you have no business being here and you need to go home, okay?" Okay. Eventually, two hours and a thousand phone calls later, I relent. I go home, stopping at the drug store on the way home for stuff that isn't "non-drowsy". I want drowsy. I want to pass out. Give me the hard stuff. I love Benadryl.
I get home and stagger into the front door, somehow finding it hard to keep my balance on foot while carrying my purse on one arm and laptop bag slung across the other. It's harder than it looks. Much harder. I dump one or both bags on the floor, breathing hard. I stagger back toward the kitchen where I hear the excited scratching of my family's chihuahua, Maggie, on the tile floor. Obviously, she's not happy to see me. Obviously, she's just got to pee. So I take her out, swaying slightly in the light breeze and begging her to hurry up under my breath. Really, I'm so rude when I'm sick. I come back inside and stagger up the back stairs with a bottle of H2O in one hand. I flop unceremoniously on my bed. It's 11:30 AM. This bites.
I flip on my television and throw in a dvd of reruns of a favorite show. This week, it's Friends. I have seven out of ten seasons and I'm unnecessarily proud of this fact. I hit "play all episodes", pop some benadryl, and proceed to fight to stay awake by alternately reading a book and watching television....I don't know why. It seems the brave thing to do. This week, I'm reading Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. I find myself frequently contemplating writing to Donald Miller to propose marriage. He seems like a lovely man and we have so much in common! Somehow, I don't think he'd say yes. I blame my tonsils.
I fall asleep laughing at something stupid Chandler just said and dream a freaky dream. Today's dream was about a bomb going off in a football stadium and I threw myself on it (yes, yes i did) and managed to survive with only a few minor burns and scratches from flying glass. I then decide to join the military after talking with Barbara Streisand about my heroic act. It seems the thing to do at the time and I do love America so. It's at this point that I wake up. I look outside and the sun is shining brightly. Crap, I overslept!! I'm going to be late for work! I've got to call Scott! I look at the clock: 5:32. That's it?? Why is it so friggin' bright outside at this time of morning?? My Friends dvd is paused on the main menu. Slowly, it begins to dawn on me that it's afternoon, not morning, and I've been napping for hours. I feel like crap but don't know whether to blame this on being sick or on napping for so long in the middle of the day. I get up to blow my nose and realize it's the former: my head's throbbing with every move I make. Sharp, spiteful throbs. This bites.
I vaguely remember my brother yelling something about a sandwich a few hours earlier and I'm pretty darn hungry by this time so I stagger downstairs where Maggie greets me in the excitement brought on by the urgent need to pee. Sighing, I put her leash on and clomp down the back steps to take her out and then back in where I wash my hands and find the sandwich my brother so kindly yelled up the stairs at me about. I eat said sandwich. I return to bed. I take my next antibiotic pill and crawl back under the covers where I toss and turn in exasperation and frustration until bedtime. Someone may or may not stick a cautious head in my door occasionally to check on me. Around 11:30, I fall asleep watching television again.

So that's been a typical day in my life so far this week. Enjoy. I know I have. Sorry to put you through this but come on, if you're reading this, you're obviously bored. Time for another dose of Amoxicillin. I'll keep you posted, don't worry.

Butterfinger Stix and The Cure are so good they almost make this bearable.