Something has been attacking my immune system all weekend. I’ve spent the past three days in bed with a roll of toilet paper a few inches from my face and I look like I’m being attacked by an alien from the inside out. My bedside table is crammed with reading material, Nyquil, my journal, fruit, my phone, my computer and…I don’t know…a lamp. Some other stuff. It’s an incredible bedside table.
And you know the problem with this particular strain of face-attacking-alien? I’ll tell you. It seems to THRIVE off of Nyquil. Like, I’m beginning to think that the whole purpose it invaded my body was because it knew I was trained, as a human, to go buy Nyquil once I get the sniffles. I AM FEEDING THE BEAST. Is it possible to get addicted to Nyquil?
Finally, for a few hours this afternoon, the clouds around my head dissipated, my sinuses cleared up and I was able to blink without feeling like my eyelids were made of sandpaper.
It was glorious. (And it is now over.) But for a little bit, I got to look at the world. And here’s what I saw: apparently, my backyard is getting ready for fall.
Friends. I’m going to go sleep the rest of this beast off, with the help of some more of The Cough Syrup Which Shall Not Be Named.
I love you all.