Done for...

I'm dying.  Sorry to just blurt it out like that but, a) I am a guy and b) I believe that I am sicker than any other person in history.  I actually even stayed home from work today!  I mean really!  Stayed home?  Unheard of!

In reality I have an exceptionally sore throat and this is the first time I have sat up (well propped up by pillows) in about 18 hours.  I was tremendously grateful that the room stopped swaying like it was built on the deck of the Santa Maria (notice how close to Columbus Day I managed a reference like that?  As the high schoolers would say, "I got mad skills.")  I decided that instead of clutching the edge of the mattress and moaning I would try to tap out another entry.  The best part is that no one will be expecting too much because, as I mentioned before, I am really very sick.

As I sit here all hopped up on Zicam and orange juice it's no wonder that this will not be my best work.  I will do my best to produce the same mediocre ramblings that you have become accustomed to.  It will be much easier if someone would be kind enough to tell me why they placed a miniature rhino in my skull and instructed him to stomp and gore until he breaks free.  And I'll tell you one thing, I am NOT cleaning up after him.

I have a series of steps that I go through in the process of being sick.  (Of course this is the first time I have ever been this sick...pity me...and bring me stuff to make me feel better)  There are those who will say, "If you are well enough to write then you are not really sick."  I say Fie unto you.  Not sure what that means and I am really too incapacitated to look it up.  If I had to guess I would say that it means, I hope that the vacuum you buy for your 13 foot room comes with a 12 and a half foot cord.  That's right, I went there, and this time I brought a minor appliance!

Anyway, back to the steps of me being sick.  First, and this is weird.  I start to smell dust.  I don't go seeking it out, it is something that I smell no matter where I am.  Everything starts to smell like dust.  Second, I start craving orange juice.  Some people crave milk, others saltine crackers, still others anchovies and vanilla ice cream.  The latter is mostly craved by the pregnant of the species and contrary to the girth of my belly, I am not pregnant.  (Although my scientifically educated children have told me that I could be if I would just go through the process required to become an earthworm....I think I'll pass)  The next step in my being sick process is that I start to claim that I am dying.  This is an important step.  It is necessary to reveal to all around me of my discomfort and I would not want to disappoint.  The fourth step in my being sick process is that I will drift in and out of consciousness with the TV on.  It is difficult to determine when someone watching TV is actually conscious but the snoring usually gives it away.  This is when a peculiar thing happens.  I get weepy like a little school girl while watching these movies.  I have no idea why.  Today I drifted in and out of Sleepless in Seattle and my eyes actually moistened!  And not during the guy's part where they were discussing The Dirty Dozen.  I'm just going to say that when Meg Ryan handed Jonah the teddy bear at the end, on top of the Empire State Building...it's just too painful to recall.  The final part of my being sick process is that I start to crave a tuna fish sandwich.  This presents a problem since opening a can of tuna is the start of Sylvia's getting sick process.  If I am well enough to make it myself I am well enough to go to work the next day.

Unfortunately today I am not ready for the tuna stage.  I know what you are thinking...Tuna?  There is just something in it that my body wants whenever I am on the mend.  It reminds me of a story that my dad told me (do you sense a theme here?) about when he was in the army.  They went on a wilderness survival training exercise for a number of days.  When they came back to civilization (and plentiful food) the protocol was that the soldiers could request anything they wanted to eat.  I'm thinking steak, prime rib, twice baked potatoes, lobster...according to Dad, a vast majority of the men wanted a tuna fish sandwich.  This is about the only thing I have in common with our brave U.S. soldiers and let me take a moment to just say, from the bottom of my heart, "Thank you!"

OK, I think it is time to put a lid on this.  I started in the morning and now it is 6:30.  It is taking a lot out of me to type this out.  Many, many breaks later (including one to put out my pillow, it burst into flames when I lay my fevered head down)  and I think I am ready to end.  Good thing I am not feeling too feverish or I would have let it slip that I become an emotional mess when I get sick.  I would hate to let that slip out.