Sunday, August 28, 2005

COLUMN: Diary of a Sick Day

8:32 a.m. - Katie Holmes. A hot tub. Some lime Jell-o. It is the dream of all dreams, when suddenly I'm awakened to the blare of my alarm clock. Quick, hit the snooze timer -- Katie, come back!

8:37 a.m. - Katie is gone for good as my alarm goes off again. I shut it off and lay for a moment, enjoying the relaxing sound effects of a distant crackling fire.

8:38 a.m. - Wait a second, that crackling is coming from my LUNGS. This can't be good.

8:40 a.m. - Reality starts to settle in. Apparantly, while I was tending to the Jell-o in my subconscious, an Ebola of a cold has settled into my head and chest. Urgh. There is NO WAY I'm going to work today.

8:45 a.m. - The inability to breathe without coughing means that I MUST call in sick to work. I really hate doing this. Don't get me wrong, I love skipping work -- I just hate having to make that phone call to do so. I say a couple of sentences out loud to the wall. Grr, nope, my voice isn't shot, it sounds fine. They're TOTALLY not going to believe that I'm sick. Ah well, I really DO feel icky, and it must be done.

8:46 a.m. - Whew. Voicemail. Bosses are so less intimidating when they're recorded. Message left, which means it's official. I'm playing hooky.

8:47 a.m. - I do the hooky dance in my PJ's in the living room. But only for a second; then the headache and nausea set in. Grr, I really AM sick.

9:15 a.m. - The battle stations are prepared. I lay down on the couch and examine the table before me. Box of Kleenex, bottle of Robitussin, 2 pieces dry toast, jug of water, remote control. Check, check, check, check, and check. I'm set. Let's get to illin', y'all.

10:05 a.m. - Daytime TV rules. Today, on a special "Maury," Marisol brings in the 14th possible father of her child for paternity testing. Oh, man, do people actually WATCH this garbage every day? There MUST be something better on, I say to myself as I grab the remote control.

10:45 a.m. - It's not #14's baby, either. Ooh, Marisol, you tempestuous vixen, you.

12:00 p.m. - I'm hungry. This presents a problem, as the only inhabitants of my fridge are a can of grape juice, some Grey Poupon, and something that may or may not have been Chinese food sometime in June. I need to go on a food run. The paranoia sets in. What if a co-worker sees me out driving around? I don't want anybody to think I'm faking it. I plan a route to KFC using all side roads.

12:30 p.m. - Having returned with my stealth lunch, it's time for some soaps. Like sands of the hourglass, so are the Days of our Lives. Hasn't this show been on for, like, 100 million years? That's gotta be one slow hourglass.

1:45 p.m. - Two thoughts cross my mind. First, is there anything worse than the taste of Robitussin? I'd rather go on Fear Factor and munch on rotted animals than take another swig of this stuff. Second, what a STUPID name for a drug. Doesn't it sound like a Japanese monster-movie nemesis? "Godzilla vs. Robo-tussin," coming to a Creature Feature near you.

1:55 p.m. - Robo-tussin has declared war on the rest of my coffeetable. The Sudafed box puts up a good fight but is no match for its awesome power. The only thing that can save the peaceful community of Tabletown is... Captain Advil-Bottle! When I realize I've spent 10 minutes playing with a bottle of cough syrup (complete with sound effects and narration,) I decide that maybe I need to ease off the cold meds a bit.

3:10 p.m. - I want my mommy.

3:40 p.m. - If you channel-flip long enough, there is ALWAYS an episode of "Cops" on somewhere. Astoundingly, I've seen them ALL before.

5:00 p.m. - As my sick day winds to a close, and I trapse through the sea of wadded-up Kleenex around my couch, I still feel pretty icky. On the lighter side, however, if I do it juuust right, I might just be able to turn this into a funny column. Time will tell, I guess...

1 comment:

me said...

Hope you're feeling tons better by now!