Saturday, June 24, 2006
Sick Day
Last night I awoke at 3 AM with the worst chills and fever I have ever had. I was so cold that I had actually been dreaming about being cold (and also about being best friends with Sarah Michelle Gellar, but that's a story for another time), and had apparently in my sleep piled a number of items of clothing and even a couple of towels on top of me. When I woke up, I had absolutely no idea what was going on, but I felt sure that I was probably going to die. I stumbled into my bathroom to look for some Nyquil, only to find that, though I had three boxes of band-aids, enough shout wipes to service an entire kindergarten, and approximately seven thousand skin products I didn't even know existed, the height of my cold-alleviating products was a bottle of Tylenol. At that point, I cried a little, and then I went into Roommate Liz's bathroom to see if the Benadryl Fairy had perhaps paid a visit. All I came up with was a curling iron and an embarrassingly ample supply of q-tips. I considered walking to the Shell station in my boxers to purchase a $20 box of cold medicine, but cooler thoughts prevailed, and I settled on a Tylenol and a couple of tall glasses of water. Then I lay in my bed adding and removing covers in 15 minute increments while watching MTV's next (which is much more entertaining when you're delusional, by the way) before finally falling asleep again just after 5:30. It was an astonishing night.
Today, of course, I feel relatively fine. I went for a run and even assembled some rather complicated furniture. But for the record, getting sick on the weekend is NOT OKAY. Make it happen on a Tuesday, just before some meeting I'm dying to get out of.
Last night I awoke at 3 AM with the worst chills and fever I have ever had. I was so cold that I had actually been dreaming about being cold (and also about being best friends with Sarah Michelle Gellar, but that's a story for another time), and had apparently in my sleep piled a number of items of clothing and even a couple of towels on top of me. When I woke up, I had absolutely no idea what was going on, but I felt sure that I was probably going to die. I stumbled into my bathroom to look for some Nyquil, only to find that, though I had three boxes of band-aids, enough shout wipes to service an entire kindergarten, and approximately seven thousand skin products I didn't even know existed, the height of my cold-alleviating products was a bottle of Tylenol. At that point, I cried a little, and then I went into Roommate Liz's bathroom to see if the Benadryl Fairy had perhaps paid a visit. All I came up with was a curling iron and an embarrassingly ample supply of q-tips. I considered walking to the Shell station in my boxers to purchase a $20 box of cold medicine, but cooler thoughts prevailed, and I settled on a Tylenol and a couple of tall glasses of water. Then I lay in my bed adding and removing covers in 15 minute increments while watching MTV's next (which is much more entertaining when you're delusional, by the way) before finally falling asleep again just after 5:30. It was an astonishing night.
Today, of course, I feel relatively fine. I went for a run and even assembled some rather complicated furniture. But for the record, getting sick on the weekend is NOT OKAY. Make it happen on a Tuesday, just before some meeting I'm dying to get out of.
