Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Panic, Minus the Disco
So if you happened to check in on me between the hours of 1 and 3 AM last night, well, first of all, I'd be pretty alarmed, as we're not really that kind of close. Actually, I think I can safely say that there is no one I would enjoy having drop in on me at that time of night, unless maybe it's the incomparable Whoopi Goldberg. And I'd even want her gone after I'd gotten a couple of Sister Act stories out of her. (What was it like working with Kathy Najimy? Did she get to choose her own nun outfits?) But anyway, if you happened to see me between 1 and 3, you'd think I was an insane person, because I basically was. I got hit with my first full-blown panic attack in a year or so and I spent much of the night pacing back and forth in my living room, hyperventilating, and trying to focus enough to watch old episodes of Designing Women on cable. I took one of my magic calming pills, but even they take some time, so I was stuck having nightmarish visions of Noam Chomsky trying to break into my house and Toni Morrison inviting me on a double date with Kerri Strug. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) I'm frankly sort of dreading bed tonight, although I'm also so exhausted that bed could come at any moment. Maybe falling asleep midsentence should be my new prose style.
So if you happened to check in on me between the hours of 1 and 3 AM last night, well, first of all, I'd be pretty alarmed, as we're not really that kind of close. Actually, I think I can safely say that there is no one I would enjoy having drop in on me at that time of night, unless maybe it's the incomparable Whoopi Goldberg. And I'd even want her gone after I'd gotten a couple of Sister Act stories out of her. (What was it like working with Kathy Najimy? Did she get to choose her own nun outfits?) But anyway, if you happened to see me between 1 and 3, you'd think I was an insane person, because I basically was. I got hit with my first full-blown panic attack in a year or so and I spent much of the night pacing back and forth in my living room, hyperventilating, and trying to focus enough to watch old episodes of Designing Women on cable. I took one of my magic calming pills, but even they take some time, so I was stuck having nightmarish visions of Noam Chomsky trying to break into my house and Toni Morrison inviting me on a double date with Kerri Strug. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) I'm frankly sort of dreading bed tonight, although I'm also so exhausted that bed could come at any moment. Maybe falling asleep midsentence should be my new prose style.
