So I have a sinus infection. And I’m taking the big-gun drugs, because apparently my doctor thought that I should. It might be because of that history of “I CAN TURN A NORMAL BACTERIAL INFECTION INTO SOMETHING OF EBOLA PROPORTIONS ALL ON MY OWN AND NEED A HOSPITAL IV IN A GIANT HURRY” that I have. I expected to be completely cured by now, because POTENT ANTIBIOTICS, Y’ALL!
And then all the impacted, non-draining cloggage in my face broke loose today like a dam being hit by a torpedo. Niagra Snot Falls has poured down my face all day long. I’ve wiped the first eight layers of my epidermis away in Charmin toilet paper, which is why I’ve been applying diaper rash cream to my cheeks and nose. If it can work wonders on a baby’s chapped bum, I’m hoping it can do the same to my red and aching face.
Also? Do you know what the big-gun meds do to your gut? They make you wish for handles on your toilet, that’s what. Apparently, the giant print-out of thirty-six million possible side effects that comes with every prescription was spot on when it said, “May liquify the output.”
I’m sorry if that’s too much information, but this is a blog for over-sharing. We’re all family here. Welcome.
And then, to add some mocking insult to my list of injuries, I was hit broadside by that nasty beast, Insomnia, this week.
I’ve never been shy about admitting that I have some sleep issues. It might be because I quite often look like THIS GUY at 2 am, even though I am not known for my night owl tendencies.On the contrary. The AARP wants me in their club. This means I really prefer a bedtime of 6:30 in the evenings, after I’ve had a nice dinner of over-cooked, Salisbury steak and a lemon, Jell-O mold salad shaped like a fish and filled with fruit cocktail bits, but I try to stay awake until a more civilized hour, like 8:00.
And then… I fall asleep nicely, exactly like the good Lord intended, but I wake up in the middle of the night. And that is when I look like I’ve been playing a drinking game that involves me taking a shot of espresso every single time somebody scores a goal on the Colorado Avalanche.
Last night, I woke up at 12:30.
And I never went back to sleep, because apparently there are a few crazy people in this world who are capable of pulling that little stunt off.
So… you can imagine exactly how lovely I looked when I called my niece, L, via Face Time, to wish her a very happy 12th birthday today. I told her, “I know I’m a vision of stunning glory right now, what with my hair falling out of my ponytail after my daytime nap, and I’m already in my pajamas at 4 pm.”
And, because my sister has taught her children to lie to their elders, that brand-new twelve-year-old said, “Oh… no! You look as pretty as ever.”
I’m pretty sure that’s exactly when Jesus nodded at one of his angel jewelers and said, “Add another gemstone to L’s crown.”
(And, y’all! Listen! That little girl who grew up in the ’80s and still lives inside of me was plum tickled to Face Time my 6th grade niece this afternoon, because she showed me all of her new birthday clothes while we were talking on the phone! It was exactly like War Games on steroids, or even The Jetsons. L just held the phone out and said, “See? I got these jeans… and this shirt… and this pair of yoga pants… and this sweatshirt… and this bedazzled tank top,” and there they were, right before my eyes, even though I was clear across town, sitting on a sofa, wiping my nose with Charmin. Even though, when I was ten years old, I imagined that we’d all have our own personal space ships to fly around town in by the year 2000, I have to admit… I NEVER envisioned a future that involved someone laying out their birthday loot on the floor, so that I could see everything from the opposite side of town, while I was under quarantine.)
So really, that’s all that’s been going on around here.
My nose drips. I wipe it. It drips again. I wipe it again. And then we repeat that scenario a hundred and forty-two more times each hour. And then I have to run to the bathroom. And then I just lie awake and stare at the ceiling all night.
Yes. It’s difficult being me.
The only other interesting thing that I have to tell you is that I made waffles for dinner tonight.
See? The level of INTERESTING at our house is at an all-time low, so I’ll let you go this evening. I’m off to bed, armed with yet another roll of toilet paper for my nose and an enormous desire to be Sleeping Beauty this evening.
Y’all carry on and have a lovely weekend.