Monday, July 11, 2005

Here Comes Adventure!

At around 5:00 AM this morning I figured I was doomed. That's about when the wheels started spinning, you see. The scenario was not atypical. I was lying in my bed having just awoken because.... why? Not sure, actually. Just damn good fortune, I guess, but anyway I was lying in bed cursing my internal alarm clock (which three nights out of seven rings its bells well before its electronic counterpart) and trying to relax enough so that blissful slumber would once again unknowingly wash over me. Didn't work - at least not immediately. No, there was something about this morning's bout of insomnia that differed from the standard fare I've become accustomed to. Namely, the back of my throat was sore - right at the point where it stops becoming my mouth and starts becoming my throat. You know, right where the uvula, that teardrop shaped thingy that hangs down in the back of your mouth lives (the dictionary defines it as a "fleshy lobe", but to THIS cat, "fleshy lobe" sounds unnecessarily disgusting. In any case, score one for me knowing the proper medical term for an obscure body part.)

I can't say I didn't see it coming. My roommate had been sneezing up a storm all last week. But let's be clear about something. There are sneezes and then there are SNEEZES. My roommate tends to steer towards the latter. The anatomy of a sneeze, while sometimes complex, can be boiled down to it's two basic phases. There's the "ah-", which is the sharp intake of breath that indicates the sneeze has begun, followed by what I think is inappropriately labeled as the "choo", which is the quick, forceful exhalation of said breath, accompanied by a spewing forth of mucous and spittle. Were the "choo" to be called by either what it truly sounded like or what it accomplished, I suspect it would vary greatly by individual. In my case, it would be called the "blank" since I often hold the "choo" in. In my roommates case, it would be called the "PLEWSFTFSFSFFSTS!" since it's loud and shit sprays everywhere. Imagine the sound Mr. Ed made when he was disappointed with Wilbur, and then multiply it by ten. I think that'll give you a good idea.

Living under such harsh conditions, it's understandable that I was infected with this damned rhinovirus, however I was not without my defenses. I immediately got up and popped an echinacia pill (which, in my youth, my mother lovingly reminded me to take - along with blueberries - every 2.45 seconds) and started up my Cold-Eeze regimen (side note: I discovered Cold-Eeze two colds ago while browsing the aisles of CVS for a shotgun. I cannot overstate how fantastic this product is. In my case at least, it makes the cold MUCH more bearable and, combined with the echinacia, significantly shortens it's length. I don't care if it's really a placebo and the effect is largely psychosomatic, damnit, it works.) But by now you're probably thinking, "Wait a minute. Didn't he mention something about wheels spinning and doom?" Why yes I did, as a matter of fact. It's just that I had to describe the circumstances leading up to it. So, for the third time, there I was lying in bed, sucking on a Cold-Eeze lozenge and waiting for it to dissolve so I could attempt to go to sleep again. I had to wait, you see. Everyone knows it's dangerous to consume anything while lying down. You run the risk of falling asleep, having the consumable inadvertently fall into your throat, where it will then stubbornly lodge itself, cut off your air supply, and insure you die a horrible death should no one come along to do a finger sweep. Given my familiarity with insomnia though, I wasn't too worried about falling asleep right there and then. So I started thinking, which in the morning (particularly that hour) is something I try not to do on purpose. I tend to be rather grim.

My first thought was that I could call in sick to work. Although at that moment I was able-bodied enough to have gone in, I reasoned that I would be much more tired and perhaps a lot more sick by the time 7:00 rolled around and I had to crawl out of bed. I quickly talked myself out of it, though. After all, I'll need that sick day when the next job interview comes along.

My second thought was "Holy Shit. What's the matter with me? I've just recently celebrated my 30th birthday, my life has no direction, I can't start thinking about a new direction because I don't make enough money to do so, I'm bored as hell with the monotony that is my existence and now, I have a fucking cold to boot." Or something along those lines. Like I said, I tend to be rather grim in the morning - to the point where I perceive a bunch of nonexistent problems and exacerbate them by dwelling on them. How did I get over this batch? Like any good Borders self-help section devotee would. Told myself to shut the fuck up, and remember the many things I have to be grateful for - which becomes easier to do when you try to make a habit out of it. Still - there's no place like the pity pot when you're actually sitting on it and taking a crap. It can be a hard place to leave sometimes. Thankfully, I was able to wipe away the worries and move on.

I didn't have time for a third thought because number two ate up so much, and when it was done the Cold-Eeze had completely dissolved, giving me the informal OK to make another attempt at sleep - which I was actually able to do after about 15 more minutes. Shortly afterwards I entered dreamland, which involved me discovering I was in a prison yard just as the prisoners were entering for their morning stroll. I wont go into details, but suffice it to say it involved me getting a gut punch from a prisoner and then playing catch with a football with the very same prisoner a moment later. Weird stuff (and yes, you may remember I posted a dream on here once before and had it anonymously analyzed by a passerby. Lesson learned the second time around? I was both punching myself and playing catch with myself at the same time. Sound similar to something I wrote maybe one paragraph ago?)

The (real) alarm awoke me in rather violent fashion a short time later and I ALMOST called in. In the end, I couldn't bring myself to do it because, well you know..... I'm happy to report though, that my decision to go into work appears to have been the correct one. As I was sifting through the newspaper during lunch, I stumbled across my horoscope which read:

"CANCER (June 22-July 22). It's nice to cozy down at home and shut the world out, but today is not the day. Adventure awaits -- you might find it around the corner at your local minimart, or it might take the form of an unexpected trip."

See? The astrologer knew. I still have the cold. I'm still very tired. But damnit, I've got adventure in store. Now let's see... It is now 7:27 in the P.M. I had to make a trip to the airport today (which wasn't unexpected) and the minimart down the street is scary and only sells Dominican produce, of which I have no need. Clearly this adventure is going to come from elsewhere.... Any ideas, folks? 7:29, now... I'm taking applications. You have about 3 1/2 hours. After that, I go back to bed to play insomniac, suck on Cold-Eeze and do it all over again. Help me out.


Post a Comment

<< Home