It goes without saying that everyone gets sick. People blame it on allergies or the changing of the seasons or whatever else there is to blame it on.
I blame getting sick on the fact that my body hates me and thinks it’s funny when I’m miserable. It started with a simple cough on Saturday morning.
Nothing to write home about.
But it slowly escalated into an all out attack on my nasal passages and throat/face area.
I’ve attempted to fight back.
The initial counter-assault began with this:
But in an attempt to feel even 50% of normal, I ended up pounding half a bottle, which in turn gave me gut rot.
So I turned to this:
For about thirty minutes I felt numb (which I liked) and then my face started to hurt and I think dehydration began to set in. So I popped some pain killers and chugged some water. Then I found some vitamins in my drawer and I figured they really couldn’t make things any worse – so I took those. And on top of everything, I’m exhausted, so I’ve sucked down about three cups of coffee like it’s the last available thing to consume on this planet.
And this was all done by 9AM this morning.
So my desk looked like this:
Needless to say, it’s been a struggle. I just have to make it through a thirteen hour work day today, like I had to yesterday.
It’s not impossible, just miserable.
I’m on track to need another two bottles of DayQuil and GoodSense Stomach Relief (knock-off Pepto). In a perfect world, I could go home and self-medicate with some vodka and invite someone over to punch me in the face (and who are we kidding – there’s plenty of people that would volunteer to do that).
But this world is a cruel temptress.
At least I have George:
And this new hat Lincoln got me:
I’m hoping to beat this bitch of a cold into submission over the next few days.
But victory is questionable.