Tuesday, March 2, 2010

One Long Whine, in Blog Form

I feel like death.

Like part of me has already died and the other part of me is dragging the first part around until some kind doctor offers to remove it, Civil War-Style.

Seen the trailers for Disney's new Not-Quite-Alice in Wonderland? I feel like Johnny Depp looks.

Have you ever been about to sneeze but then didn't? And you get that twinge inside your nose, the urge to sneeze? I have that all the time now. And when you have it all the time, it makes your nose run and run and run and run and run and run and run until you can't bend your head over. At all.

Every time I lean over, I sneeze. Every time I sneeze, I sneeze. Do you see where this is going?

I sneezed so hard last night that my left contact was liberated from my eye. I don't wear hard contacts; I wear soft ones. That isn't supposed to happen with soft lenses.

My nose runs so much that I want to just let my nasal passages close off completely just to stop it--but if I did, it wouldn't do me any good, because even when I let my nose close off last night, it still managed to be able to run. Really.

Last night, I was sneezing so much, I was sure using my Neti Pot, the weirdest invention of all time, would help me. It didn't.

I've passed the point where blowing your nose doesn't hurt. Now, it's like sandpaper. And I have Kleenex with lotion.

This morning, I bought Sweet Tea. And it didn't make me feel better.

When I was getting dressed today, I thought, "What clothing should I choose that will be the least annoying during my time of suffering?" The answer, my yoga clothes, was not workplace appropriate.

When I got out of bed, I thought, "Gee, I feel like crap," but I didn't stay home, because I knew staying home would only mean that I was suffering in bed instead of suffering at work. Getting better was not listed as an option on the ScanTron test that is my life.

I took cold medicine this morning, not to treat my current symptoms,but because I knew that if I didn't, I would end my week with a sinus infection.

The only way I can sit that is comfortable involves my squeezing my nostrils completely shut, like a clothespin would.

I have a Kleenex up my shirt sleeve.

When I die, my family can at least take comfort in the fact that I didn't actively try to kill myself, my allergies did it for me.

I am sitting at my desk with Kleenex shoved up my nose. In public. There are security cameras.

I can't decide if I have a fever or if my organs are just dissolving for fun.

There is stuff in the book drop, and no amount of cajoling could convince me to take it out. Or shelve if afterward.

When I swallow, my ears pop.

If I lean down to knit, my nose runs. Therefore, I must knit with my eyes closed (feels better) and my head leaned backwards. With Kleenex rammed up my nose.

I keep thinking that, if I could just sleep for five or six days, I would feel better. I don't know if that's true. But I am buying benadryl before I go home today. I don't care if I wake up curled up on the floor by my door with my pillow clenched in my arms like an infant. If I'm hallucinating it, it has to be important, right?

This is the worst allergy attack of my life. And it would be horrible even if it wasn't actually a cold. Which it might not be. But it is. I am allergic to my cold.

I've lost more liquid through my nose than the human body can be expected to replace, even with a giant Sweet Tea.

Can I go home, now?

Can I take a nap under the desk, instead?

I have a headache. Would it make me a bad employee if I passed out now?

I can't even think up an ending to this blog that's how gross I


  1. Laura, you're a scream!

  2. Thank you, thank you, I'll be here until the coroner comes to pick up the body.