A quest to make sense of it all. Or a sense to make a quest of it all.

Wednesday, January 06, 2010

Better take some shelter and batten down some hatches, 'cause Hurricane Sarah's 'bout to blow through town.

The best thing about being sick is that glorious couple of hours whe you realize you're coming out of it. You can breathe a little deeper without coughing, smile easier, maybe nod your head to some mediocre song on the radio. (SERIOUSLY GAIL WHY CAN WE NOT PUT ON SOME CD'S IN HERE?? YOU'RE KILLING ME. I LOVE YOU BUT YOU'RE KILLING ME AND IM TYPING IN CAPS JUST IN CASE YOU GLANCE OVER MY SHOULDER. YOU KNOW YOU HATE 91.9 AS MUCH AS I DO. PLEEEEASE!) Your mind starts to sharpen and the ability to crack jokes that don't suck starts to come back...slowly. You still have to take it easy, though. The talent is still weak, like a kitten.

I have come up with absolutely nothing profound or hilarious over the duration of my illness. My attempts at writing longhand at the house have brought nothing but snickers from my notebook. But it's ok. The fever's gone, the cough is fading, and my personality is chomping at the bit to get out again. Thank God, because I am one dull invalid. My lungs are bruised but I'm ready to laugh again anyway.

P.S. I also have big dreams of productivity for tonight. I packed my gym bag on my lunch break with full intentions of actually going right after work. I will not be running, because I don't want to die tonight, but I can walk for awhile and piddle around in the weight room...and I can certainly tan. I also swept the kitchen and it's ready for the thorough hands-and-knees scrubbing I've been threatening for days. If I still feel froggy after all that, I may even hang up my clothes and drag in my armoire drawers from the car. Yeah. I am ready to rock it. All. Night. Long.

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