Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Because Venezuelan spider monkeys told me to, that's why...
Today is the first time I've been awake for more than two hours in the past 72. No, I didn't go on a bender or sign up for the Swiss Sleep Cure. I caught a bronchial virus from a co-worker last week and it completely took me out this weekend. I'm talking 105-degree fever, shakes, hallucinations...the works. Saturday afternoon found me on the couch gently weeping while watching Lake Placid on A&E (quite possibly the worst movie ever).

On Saturday night, the fever kicked in and I huddled under the covers in my bed, having a strangely logical conversation with a wise spider monkey who was sitting cross-legged in the armchair across the room. He came off somewhat professorial, as if he wore spectacles and held a pipe, except without the spectacles and pipe. I'm sure what we discussed was important, but he was gone the next time I woke up and I can't remember the gist of it now. Of course, throughout the night I also had conversations with The Cat (we're so rarely on the same page), a pillow, something that was under my bed, and the host of an infomercial on television. The fever broke around 4 a.m. and I had to crawl to the shower because my hair and clothes were soaked with sweat. Then I had to change the bed linens, drink a gallon of water, and whimper myself back to sleep.

I'm still hacking a bit, but no longer discussing Occam's Razor theory with inanimate objects. And I lost some lbs., both from not being able to eat and sweating like I was wearing wool in August. My dear friend (and former roommate...and new homeowner) Michael emailed me this morning to ask if I was feeling better and my first response was "I lost 8lbs..." He responded: "Okay, the eight and the "L" sort of blend together so I read that as 81 pounds in four days...thought you were pulling a Nicole Richie." I wish, my friend. I wish my head were as big as a basketball, that I was six inches shorter, and that the veins stood out on my neck like an underfed racehorse. But since I probably can't get my hands on the veterinary drug she takes to deplete her body of every last fat cell, I'll have to settle for Nicole Richie's smaller-headed, taller, more educated sister. With a pot belly.

Seriously, though, I woke up this morning, pulled on my "wear-around-the-house" jeans, proceeded down the hall to the kitchen, and my pants fell down before I made it to the doorway. Instead of putting on a smaller pair, I just grabbed them at the waist, tucked the band once, and folded it over. Maybe I'll start a new fashion trend (let the mocking begin, Ida). Or maybe, taking into account my pallor and consumptive cough, people will just think I'm a street person.

Off to put more zinc up my nose...

12 comments:

  1. No, no, no. The worst movie ever was Josie and the Pussycats (no, I don't care that Parker Posey was in it. It. Was. Terrible.). Followed closely by Alexander.

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  2. 105? Yikes. That's not good. Drink, drink, drink. Hope you feel better.

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  3. Come cough on me. I had some plague that was going around week before last, and damned if it wasn't the eatingest sickness I've ever had. I think I gained your eight. Bitch, take them back!

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  4. I hope you are the mend. If my jeans would zip, I'd be up for the roll over!

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  5. Me? Mock someone about fashion? But I don't do that unless we're at the Green Dragon or you drop "acid washed jeans with a peg leg" into our normal conversation! You silly, skinny girl.

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  6. Hope you get better soon.

    Have you ever tried writing down your lucid talks with the monkey? When I was in the hospital with pneumonia--and heavily medicated--I thought I had some brilliant ideas. So, I kept my journal with me at all times, and I chronicled the experience.

    Upon reading months later, my journal looked as if it had been stolen by a deranged mental patient; my handwriting wasn't even the same, and my thoughts on the meaning of life--and an idea for a television pilot involving Alf and the Budweiser frogs--were hilarious and demented.

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  7. Glad you are feeling better. Are you sure it wasn't Hanta virus from that mouse???

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  8. OK, it might have been a 103 degree fever...I didn't have a thermometer handy. But I know it was high from the hallucinations!

    Jem, I am sending you some phlegm.

    I'm on the mend, back in the office today, happy to be here and not crying into a hand towel at home.

    Ida, you are my personal fashion icon.

    Matt, I actually did have 2 good ideas for books while I was out of my head! I wrote them down and they still sound good. Demented, but good.

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  9. sometimes i worry about you. only sometimes.

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  10. I had one of those bad colds about a month ago and it sounds like exactly what you had. Without the monkeys. Here I am a month later and still coughing up stuff that has probably been in my lungs for years. Hope you are all well now.

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  11. Y'know Lake Placid is one of the worst movies I love. I tend to watch it when I want something to distract me from how awful I feel. That's the ONLY reason I own it, I'm sure ...

    Love your style of writing, by the way. You read like a blogger who's got a book in her future. I do too, only it's the Driver's Handbook from the DMV.

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