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...


  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.

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

  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!

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

  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.

  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.

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

  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.

  9. sometimes i worry about you. only sometimes.

  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.

  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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