No feel good.
WARNING: This post may contain graphic descriptions of bodily functions in reverse digestive conditions.
“The boy ain’t doin’ so well today.”
There are few things as gripping as waking up in bed with that crawly, sweaty sensation all over paired with an over-salivating mouth.
You can go from hitting the snooze alarm habitually to a wide-eyed insomniac in two churns of the clock.
Unfortunately, this set the tone for the day.
I was a touch late for class, I briefly had to evacuate my design class prematurely while concerned about the timing of other departures (a shout out should go here for the person who stuck all those extra trash cans in the hallway. Mucho thanks), before lunch the newsroom got to me so bad that I stumbled down the back stairs and out into Peace Park where I half-passed out beneath a tree for almost an hour.
I’m not suffering from a bug, but rather one too many days of having my summer allergies belabored sinuses draining into stomach. So the good news is that I’m not contagious. Either that, or I’m the Victim Alpha of some bad outbreak movie who chalks up his symptoms up to something relatively harmless until he finally succumbs to the disease – often in a crowded public place.
Due to reasons like that I chose not to go to the downtown Twilight Festival this evening. That and I appeared to have slept through it when I took a “quick” catnap after I finished up at the Missourian.
It may not be wise to try and wax reflective while in this current state.
The stomachache, as well as the resulting fuzziness when one can’t bring oneself to eat much, is causing me to mentally disconnect.
This has happened before.
I can vaguely recall times in the past when pain, sickness, and fatigue temporarily caused me to go even more mental than usual. I can remember getting into a verbal argument with my legs and told my complaining limbs to, “Shut up!” I also remember one paranoid night where I was trying to remember not to touch the doorknob in morning for fear it was planning to kill me.
At the end of my design class, my instructor told me how horrible I looked. Alas, my mental state doesn’t seem to be far behind my physical appearance.
Even as I type this, I can just almost start to realize I’d be better off taking an early leave this night. It would do me some good to curl up with a good book (not a horror or freaky sci-fi book, for odds are my feeble mind will incorporate the plot into sickness-driven dreams) and pass out subsequently.
Here’s hoping I’m dreaming.
