Don’t Stand So Close to Me

On Tuesday morning, I started to think that I might be coming down with something. By 2:30pm, I had to leave work because it felt like every bone in my body was made out of those weird Twizzlers with the gooey insides.

Every bone. Even the little ones in my ears.

Every bone. Even the little ones in my ears.

I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. I ruled out Ebola (because I haven’t been to West Africa recently, nor provided health care to anyone who has it) and the common cold (because colds don’t make you feel like a semi-truck drove into your fourth-floor office, ran you over, backed up, and ran you over again), and that pretty much left me with seasonal flu.

Some Misconceptions I Had About the Flu, Cleared Up

  • But wait, I thought. It can’t be the flu, because I had the flu shot back in the fall! “Ha ha ha,” said the CDC. “It doesn’t matter.” The virus changed after this year’s vaccine was developed and now there’s a mutated, freaky virus in my body and it won’t come out.
  • It’s no problem, I thought. I’ve had the flu before. I’ll kick this baby in 24 hours! “Ha ha ha,” said the CDC. “You really won’t.” The word “flu” gets thrown around to mean any old thing that makes you feel bad. Your run-of-the-mill stomach flu is not the flu flu. When the CDC says, “You have the flu” they’re talking about influenza, an upper respiratory disease that tries really, really hard to kill you. If you’re a baby or very old person, it may succeed. At the very least, you’re down for the count for one to two weeks.
  • That sounds terrible, I thought. I can’t wait to tell my friends about it. “Ha ha ha,” said the CDC. “You’ll never see your friends again! Or, at least not for five to seven days after you’ve started exhibiting symptoms. Plus, you may have infected them a day before you even knew you were sick. They probably don’t like you anymore.”
  • Shut up, CDC, I thought. Shut up and leave me alone so I can vomit in peace. “Ha ha ha, said the CDC. “We have a very boring diet we can recommend to you once you stop barfing. You have bananas, right? No? What about rice? No rice either? Guess you’re eating applesauce and toast for the next three days.”

Despite all of this, I was handling the flu pretty well. Oh, I couldn’t sleep much the first couple of days because my entire body hurt, and I couldn’t stand up for more than a few minutes for a while there, but yesterday I started feeling a little better. I crawled all the way to my kitchen!

I'll take any victory I can get.

I’ll take any victory I can get.

Thanks to a steady regimen of DayQuil, NyQuil, applesauce, and Gatorade, I felt like I was on the upswing. Until this morning, that is, when I was pretty sure I was going to die.

How to Be Like Stephanie

3:30am Wake up with a sore throat and a hacking cough.
3:35am Take some NyQuil in the dark.
4:45am Wonder why you’re still awake. Turn on the light and see that you took DayQuil instead. Blame this on your cat.
5:45am While still awake, develop an allergic reaction to the DayQuil YOU DIDN’T EVEN WANT TO TAKE. Freak out. This flu is going to kill you in the most ridiculous way possible.
6am Google whether or not you can mix Benadryl with DayQuil. You can!
6:05am Discover that there is no Benadryl in your home and that your throat is doing a weird thing that will probably kill you. Hunt for any antihistamine you can find.
6:15am Google the two drugs you found to find out if they can mix with DayQuil. Learn that one will maybe possibly kill you. The other will not. Take that one with a giant swig of Gatorade a kind friend brought you.
6:30am Take a shower to calm down. You needed one because you haven’t bathed since before you were sick. Notice while washing your hair that your fingertips are brown. What the hell? Freak out.
6:32am Get out of the shower. Why did you take that antihistamine? You are absolutely going to die, aren’t you? You’re going to die in your sleep. Put on some nice underwear in case you die in your sleep. Wonder if it’s possible to train the cat to check for a pulse and call 911. Some animals do that, right?’

He kind of already knows how to use the computer...

He kind of already knows how to use the computer… Kind of.

6:40am Check the mirror to make sure your pajamas are nice enough to die in. FLIP OUT because your lips and teeth and tongue are a deep, deep blue. Oh my god! Oh my god! Death is coming! Don’t fall asleep! Don’t close your eyes or death will find you!
6:45am Begin to Google what could possibly make your fingertips turn brown and your mouth turn blue. Get distracted by a clip of the Coneheads. Watch old Saturday Night Live sketches until you lose consciousness. You realize it’s happening, but now you’re like, “Eh. Come and get me, death. I’m too tired to fight.”
9:30am Wake up when the cat piledrives your stomach. You’re alive! Your allergic reaction is gone! You made it through the night! Holy cow! You’re still dying from the flu but it’s a beautiful day and birds are chirping and you can feel your white blood cells gaining the upper hand.
9:31am Notice that your fingertips are still brown. Run to the mirror. Your mouth is still blue. Wait a minute. What’s that brown smudge on your body wash? Is that… Is that hair dye from last weekend? WITH FINGERPRINTS IN IT? And what’s this on the night stand? It’s your Gatorade. Your blue Gatorade. See? Everything is fine!
9:40am The Claritin side effects page is still up on your browser. Notice that one of the side effects is increased anxiety. Think, “Sheesh. Glad I didn’t experience that. That would have been crazy.”

Leaving on a Jet Plane

I know what you’re thinking, and you’re correct. Something about this week’s blog post is different. I’m typing it up about 2,000 miles to the right of where I normally write it. I didn’t think it would be that noticeable. You’re very good.

I’m in Washington, D.C., on a business trip because I am a business person. I can’t prove that, because my business cards slipped my business mind and I left them at my business house, but you’ll have to trust me.

I flew in on Tuesday, I went to a one-day conference on Wednesday, and I’m flying back home on Thursday. Every time I say this to someone, they go, “Wow! Short trip!” and then they make a pitying face.

This face.

This face.

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Watching the Detectives

I was home late that night, and wrapping up a phone conversation as I unlocked the door. I heard the click on the other end of the line and stood in my office in the dark for a minute, tired of the grind, tired of people, tired of life. I reached overheard to turn on the light, and there he was, waiting. One foot tall, white socks up to there. Yowza.

I’d seen him around. His name was Winston Purrchill, and he was a cool cat, no question. “Hiya, sweetheart,” I said. “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

A feline fatale if ever there was one.

A feline fatale if ever there was one.

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But He Wants to Be a Paperback Writer

We are smack-dab in the middle of another No-Shave November and National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). It’s a special time.

I usually forget about No-Shave November until right around this time each year, when men start to seem fuzzier than usual and it’s not because my glasses are smudged. I typically don’t notice NaNoWriMo until around November 29 each year, either. I always think, “Hmm. I should write a book,” but then I remember that I don’t have any ideas, I lack even the motivation to create an account on the NaNoWriMo website, and writing is haaaaaaard. So I move on and forget about it for the next 365 days.

NaNoWriMo, for the cool kids out there, is a challenge designed to motivate people to write a novel in a month. It’s not a long month — November only hath 30 days, if you’ll recall that dumb rhyme. The good news is, it’s not a long novel, either — the goal is 50,000 words which is apparently the approximate length of “The Great Gatsby”

F. Scott, you slacker.

F. Scott, you slacker.

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Let’s Give Them Something to Talk About

Someone invited me to join their group of friends tomorrow night. We’re going to one of those painting places where they tell you how to paint a nice, seasonal scene and as long as you listen to the directions, at the end of the night you all end up with some swell art.

Though I suspect mine will not look like this.

Though I suspect mine will not look like this.

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