Delirium and toothpaste and sin and such

Delirium-and-toothpaste

I’ve slept too much over the past four days to sleep anymore but I still don’t have the energy to make it much farther than the front door so I’m lying in my bed watching the sun set, grateful that I’ll eventually be able to use codeine to knock myself out if it comes to that. I’m at war with the thermostat.

One minute I’m setting it in the sixties and the next I’m jacking it up to eighty with an occasional lull where we all hang precariously in the mid seventies while I lie curled beneath heavy blankets and sweatshirts and dogs. My hair hurts. My eyes hurt. Everything feels obnoxious. My thermometer hasn’t reported a running temperature of 102 since Wednesday.

I’m not quite sure what happened. One minute I was in a meeting with Digital for a project they’re putting together and the next I’m standing to leave and my brain has become the unfortunate victim of one of Newton’s laws against my skull. Things in motion will tend to stay in motion unless it crashes into something else… (or something like that). Like all shocked victims later say: It came out of nowhere.

So now I’m down. The mint sensation from toothpaste is practically unbearable, which is an especially raw deal considering the one thing I’ve become obsessed with doing since Wednesday is brushing my teeth. It’s such a sick and fitting sting.

Other recent obsessions include soup and frozen yogurt. With both have come a strong appreciation for handicap parking spots–not that I have the placard, but I’ve made my own handicap parking spots by parking in things that aren’t parking spots at all and it’s made all the difference in the world. The fact is I can’t walk very far without getting lightheaded and collapsing. I think the personal dark comedy that I’ve been living really peaked yesterday when I had to race myself back to bed from the shower because if I didn’t move fast enough I wasn’t gonna make it. The dogs thought I was playing and bit at my ankles the whole way. My cell phone was left on the counter. I was stranded for a few hours.

At first I was grateful for an excuse to stay in bed and do nothing all day but like anything over indulgent it’s become a little sickening in its own right. I’d liken waiting for the fever to break to watching paint dry but the damn paint would have been dry by now. I can’t focus on anything for any respectable period of time either so my normal time wasters are lost on me. I don’t even have the energy for twitter. Or dark chocolate. This is a serious thing indeed.

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