Morning came far before she was ready for it. The evil thing snuck up on her while she slept and stole her rest out from under from her. The alarm blared to life, and the horrid sounds of Reveille sounded throughout the apartment, shaking the walls with the intensity of the sound. She opened an eye and looked about. There was no way it was time to get up. But, alas, the alarm was seconded by her phone and her watch, and when consulted, the microwave agreed. The stove was neutral, but it got outvoted. It was time to wake. She snuffled into the bathroom, all too aware of the fact that breathing was becoming a necessity that she would have to deal with soon. Finally, she managed to hack half a lung up, and then was able to clear some room for oxygen to make its way throughout her system. Things seemed a little better after that. The shower was a gift from God. Warmth seeped through her body, and she fell blissfully asleep for a few precious moments. But her phone began sounding its backup alarm, and she was trapped between the proverbial rock and hot water until she got herself cleaned up and out of the shower. She managed to avoid throwing her phone across the room by the slightest of margins, but her phone would survive to see another day. Probably a good thing considering how expensive the stupid thing was. She dried her body and hair, and coiffured the latter, praying that it would behave itself. It was not acquiescent, and rudely decided to stick up slightly higher on one side than the other, giving her a lopsided look for the rest of the day, which actually reflected the physical sensations she was experiencing. She dressed, thankfully, in clean, dry clothing, grateful for the fact that it wasnt a day wherein she was required to be prettyful. Tomorrow would come soon enough, with its insistence that she wear clothing of a professional manner. Today, she was free to wear jeans and a t-shirt and feel semi-comfortable. Now if only she could breathe. She arrived at work only slightly after the appointed time. Fortunately, there were no horrific meetings after the morning standup, at which she was gratefully allowed to sit down, next to the big monitor, greedily soaking up the warmth. The day can only be described in terms of a never-ending horror of bad code, a bad cold, and inexplicable use of air conditioning in November by the physical plant engineers at her work. Finally, the day eased its grasp on her, and she was allowed to walk slowly home from work. Her head had decided that it wanted to secede from the body, and the argument was difficult to keep up with while walking, so she had to occasionally stop and allow the participants in the discussion to catch up with one another. In the end, they voted for remaining as a union, but it was a near thing. At home, she was grateful that she had baked bread the day before, and that there were fresh sandwich makings. Unfortunately, as is always the case, this meant that she had to attend to the making. Her request for a brownie had been once again denied by the Faerie Board of Health and Safety, and her appeal had not yet been ruled on. She put on her old red sweater, her fuzzy socks, and carefully cut bread, slathered on Miracle Whip, and dropped a piece of Turkey and some Mozzarella cheese onto a slice. It was all she could do. No lettuce or tomato today. Too much work. She ate slowly, carefully, considering that she did have to actually chew occasionally, and then swallow in order to get the food from her mouth into her stomach. Finally, sandwich eaten, though not tasted, due to the lack of oxygen going through the nostrils, she wavered into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth, thereafter to take the prescribed dosage of Nyquil, climb into her bed, and hope that morning wouldnt come and attack her quite so horrifically tomorrow. In other words, Im miserable with a cold and am going to bed. Love you all.
Posted on: Tue, 12 Nov 2013 01:04:01 +0000
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