Posted by: canaryinacoalmine | May 9, 2005

Wallowing

It’s the start of spring and I am sick. My body is here attached to the keyboard while my head floats around the office aimlessly. I am pretty sure if I stare out the window long enough I will have an out of body experience flying around Houston checking out all of the construction. I’ll wrap my shirt over my head and do my best Flying Nun impersonation. –weeeee here we go I’m free!

I just touched my cheek, it brought me back to reality. I am no longer doing impersonations. It’s alive –mughhhahaha! Sitting at my desk, my eyes are so tired they are trying to hibernate while the phone keeps ringing and office mate won’t stop yelling. I want the comfort of my couch and my rose colored fleece.

Swallowing feels like a frog is playing ping pong with my uvula. When I talk my eyes droop and my head is hung low. I feel like a cross between yo sammity sam and bugs bunny. What’s up doc? The stuff isn’t working I feel loopy, cartoon like.

I am starting to be able to breathe out of both nostrils again but DQ, my boss, is heading this way and he might start to wonder why I am braiding the carpet and making rubber band balls. It’s the meds boss I swear.

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