Monday, July 19, 2004
The Best Weekend Ever!
So I think I may have contracted West Nile Virus during my office retreat. It all started on Friday, when I found myself experiencing major UFO-abduction-style "lost time" while attempting to read some briefs. The truly enjoyable part was that, being a major nerd, I would continue to dream that I was reading even after I fell asleep, leading to the creation in my head of some truly dubious appellate arguments involving unicorns, racecars, and Jessica Simpson. My Farrah-like grip on consciousness was accompanied by a sore throat that caused me to wonder if I had, in fact, perhaps swallowed an operating salad shooter. (I don’t recall doing this, but I did, after all, have some lost time.) So I started swilling Dayquil and cough drops and my own home remedies of Twizzlers and the Green Apple Slushie from 7-11.
Things were not to improve, however, when I began having massive chills that led me to, in a half-conscious and no doubt half-crazed state, put on several layers of clothing (including, I must confess, some formal wear), wrap myself in every blanket in the house, and climb back under the covers. When I awoke in a frantic sweat no more than twenty minutes later, I remembered none of the brilliant blanket plan, and was convinced that I had either been placed in a straightjacket for ultimate commitment to one of Chicago’s finer asylums or non-consensually signed up for a special April Fool’s Day episode of Ultimate Makeover. Things took a real turn for the worse when I somehow missed the rather prominent warning not to drink alcohol with my cold medicine and ended up spending an entire night lying on my bed spouting a stream-of-consciousness monologue about the Northern Renaissance (still a nerd even when altered) and shaking violently. I cannot think of a better way to spend a weekend.
So I think I may have contracted West Nile Virus during my office retreat. It all started on Friday, when I found myself experiencing major UFO-abduction-style "lost time" while attempting to read some briefs. The truly enjoyable part was that, being a major nerd, I would continue to dream that I was reading even after I fell asleep, leading to the creation in my head of some truly dubious appellate arguments involving unicorns, racecars, and Jessica Simpson. My Farrah-like grip on consciousness was accompanied by a sore throat that caused me to wonder if I had, in fact, perhaps swallowed an operating salad shooter. (I don’t recall doing this, but I did, after all, have some lost time.) So I started swilling Dayquil and cough drops and my own home remedies of Twizzlers and the Green Apple Slushie from 7-11.
Things were not to improve, however, when I began having massive chills that led me to, in a half-conscious and no doubt half-crazed state, put on several layers of clothing (including, I must confess, some formal wear), wrap myself in every blanket in the house, and climb back under the covers. When I awoke in a frantic sweat no more than twenty minutes later, I remembered none of the brilliant blanket plan, and was convinced that I had either been placed in a straightjacket for ultimate commitment to one of Chicago’s finer asylums or non-consensually signed up for a special April Fool’s Day episode of Ultimate Makeover. Things took a real turn for the worse when I somehow missed the rather prominent warning not to drink alcohol with my cold medicine and ended up spending an entire night lying on my bed spouting a stream-of-consciousness monologue about the Northern Renaissance (still a nerd even when altered) and shaking violently. I cannot think of a better way to spend a weekend.
