Fever Dreams
It's Thursday-soon-to-be-Friday, which means I should be writing - but I'm having a hard time getting my head in the right place. I mean, it would be a good start to have it firmly attached to my body, right?
I think the thing I hate most about being sick is the drugs. Thank goodness I have a naturally high tolerance for pain... I managed on ibuprofen alone after the first day, with my wisdom teeth, and I took nothing but Tylenol for my toe surgery in the summer. This is good. Because anything stronger than that makes me hallucinate. Dayquil gives me visions.
So usually when I'm ill, I just sleep. That's what I mostly did today. Jimmy came by to check on me around noon, and washed a pot and offered to heat me up some soup, but I didn't crawl out of bed at all until three thirty. I had some soup, then, and popped some giant orange pills, and then went and taught my Thursday martial arts class (Robyn "Reliable" Fleming, that's me!). The class went surprisingly well, actually, and I managed not to cough or sneeze the whole time, and also not to touch anyone. Afterward, there was more soup, and then I borrowed Mom's bathtub (by which I mean I went next door to use it, not that I carried it off) for a while, and took some more pills, because I decided I like not blowing my nose every minute and a half or so...
And now here I am. Wakeful, congested, and high as a kite.
This might be a good night for poetry, actually. I can't concentrate on a short story idea long enough to even open the relevant Word document, but I could probably do a sonnet. Well, ok, a bad sonnet, but I can't usually manage good ones even when I'm at the peak of writerly health (I wanted to write that as "pique," which is making me giggle insanely, now).
Maybe a sestina. I still haven't ever managed to finish one. Impenetrable, contrived bastards.
Maybe a sestina is a bad idea, after all.
Anyone want to give me a prompt/challenge/inspiration?
I think the thing I hate most about being sick is the drugs. Thank goodness I have a naturally high tolerance for pain... I managed on ibuprofen alone after the first day, with my wisdom teeth, and I took nothing but Tylenol for my toe surgery in the summer. This is good. Because anything stronger than that makes me hallucinate. Dayquil gives me visions.
So usually when I'm ill, I just sleep. That's what I mostly did today. Jimmy came by to check on me around noon, and washed a pot and offered to heat me up some soup, but I didn't crawl out of bed at all until three thirty. I had some soup, then, and popped some giant orange pills, and then went and taught my Thursday martial arts class (Robyn "Reliable" Fleming, that's me!). The class went surprisingly well, actually, and I managed not to cough or sneeze the whole time, and also not to touch anyone. Afterward, there was more soup, and then I borrowed Mom's bathtub (by which I mean I went next door to use it, not that I carried it off) for a while, and took some more pills, because I decided I like not blowing my nose every minute and a half or so...
And now here I am. Wakeful, congested, and high as a kite.
This might be a good night for poetry, actually. I can't concentrate on a short story idea long enough to even open the relevant Word document, but I could probably do a sonnet. Well, ok, a bad sonnet, but I can't usually manage good ones even when I'm at the peak of writerly health (I wanted to write that as "pique," which is making me giggle insanely, now).
Maybe a sestina. I still haven't ever managed to finish one. Impenetrable, contrived bastards.
Maybe a sestina is a bad idea, after all.
Anyone want to give me a prompt/challenge/inspiration?