My head cold.
I went to bed last night with an idea for a flash fiction I wanted to write today. That’s pretty rare these days – usually, nine o’clock rolls around and I start scrambling for what fictional situations I want to deal in that night – but I have some new characters that I want to play with and they’ve been surprisingly easy to deal with for being so fresh and young. It was the sort of thing that made going to sleep a little sweeter.
I woke up this morning with my nose and head and throat announcing that I was going to have a head cold today, or they were all monkey’s uncles. I believed them, but hoped that it would hold off long enough for me to be a productive human being during daylight hours.
I managed to get to my morning’s appointment, sounding a bit like I’d eaten frogs for breakfast, and then got home again. There, I wrapped myself up in a blanket, sat in a comfortable chair, and didn’t move for four hours. After four hours, I moved to the more comfortable couch, and took a nap.
I woke up, and didn’t move until five minutes ago when I fetched my laptop and came right back.
If I sound pitiable, trust me, I’m not. I don’t live alone, and the people around me have been more than obliging in helping me get water and vitamins and applesauce. They’ve very kindly been helping me avoid the dizzying activity of standing up. They’re very wonderful, and I would like to give all of them a great big hug. Right after I stop being contagious.
I’m beginning to worry about how long this blog post is getting, because the point of it was to inform all my readers that my head cold has been very amusing for most of the afternoon, removing certain thought processes that would have kept me from saying the more ridiculous things that came into my head. I wanted to tell you all that I wasn’t sure I could trust myself to be coherent tonight. I was going to offer proof, and recount some of the conversations from earlier today:
Me: I want a swagger like that.
Me: And that motorcycle. I want that motorcycle.
Me: Can you swagger on a motorcycle?
Me: I mean. I guess. I think, it would just kind of look like… [rocks hand back and forth on an imaginary street in front of me, while making cartoon engine noises]
Neekers: [cracks up]
Me: It would look like you’re drunk. Which… You probably are if you’re trying to swagger on a motorcycle. Right?
Neekers: [keeps laughing]
Me: Oh my gosh.
Me: I killed Tinkerbell with my face.
Me: If I build a castle out of applesauce, do I get a prize?
Neekers: [cracks up]
Me: Wait… what? Was that funny? I was being serious.
Neekers: I could tell. By the way you didn’t laugh.
Me: So, do I?
Me: [five minutes later] I don’t think I can make this applesauce be square. Can a castle not be square?
Neekers: Of course. Most of them weren’t. They just have to have towers and walls.
Me: I can’t build a castle.
But the longer this post becomes, the less credible my argument seems to be. The less likely you are to allow yourself to believe that I am a mad woman with a tissue box.
Or maybe, this is all as incoherent as it needs to be, and the only person that I’m fooling is myself.
I have a head cold.