It all started Monday morning when I woke up feeling like someone had stuck a wire coat hanger down my throat and used it to strip the inner layer.
No, that's not true.
It probably goes back to the Wednesday night before that when I became intimately involved with the bedding of a woman who hadn't previously slept indoors in months and had the word COMMUNICABLE practically tattooed across her forehead in perma-dirt.
Or, really, it can probably be traced back to the unholy hours of the Sunday night\Monday morning before that, when my friend Cynthia had to bust me out of a room where I was being held captive by a mad black woman threatening to bust a cap in my ass.
Well, let's just say that trouble has been brewing for a while.
Anyhoo. The painful strep-ness of my throat was evident from the moment I woke up on Monday, but I raked a comb through my thinning hair and rigged a belt through the loops of pants that have grown way too big for me during the past few months, took a 3-hour bus ride into work where I struggled to stay on my feet for 12 hours and 'counsel' women with problems that sometimes actually seem trivial in comparison to my own (shame on me!), then took another 3 hour public transit joy ride back to the couch I am presently sleeping on and slept maybe 4 hours before repeating the process, only this time with an ear infection, a sinus headache, and a sty to boot.
And then I got a chest cold. And I probably should have called in sick right there and then, but I thought if I could just get through this week, I'd have enough money so that the next time I got sick, I could, you know, maybe afford penicillin. So I made a steady diet of Benylin and Halls and somehow survived the week (fyi: subway + migraine = worst thing ever) and when I got home, knees shaking, I was ready to collapse from relief and exhaustion and I ached for deep, uninterrupted sleep.
But the phlegm in my lungs had other ideas, so I spent the night being racked by coughs, and any time I attempted to get horizontal I'd be punished with a lack of oxygen, and I don't know about you, but I find being unable to breathe to be pretty uncomfortable.
So then I got the bright idea to be productive and I forgot to try not to die. I stacked some pillows behind my back, bent my knees and with the laptop balanced on my thighs, I thought I might finally be able to write a word or two to say hello to you all. And then I sneezed, propelling the cursed laptop right into my noggin (how on earth do corners always crash directly into your eye?) and in a flash of pain and potential blindness, I had two incongruent thoughts:
1. Emergency! Wake Jason!
2. Holy fuck this is embarrassing! Do not under any circumstances wake Jason or admit to anyone that this has happened!
Well, you can guess which one won out. He brought me ice and Tylenol, and a soup bowl full of Benylin and made soothing noises, and politely locked himself in the bathroom so I wouldn't hear his fit of laughter (but he didn't turn on the tap so I heard it anyway) and now I have an egg on my temple, a bit of a black eye, a bit of a swollen lip, and after all that violence I didn't even knock the damn cold out of me.
So you see why I cannot possibly write a post today, don't you?