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Friday, February 22, 2008

Would it be considered a conspiracy theory to think that the Stayfree Corporation secretly spreads the influenza virus? Because they are makin' a killin' offa me.

I don't cough if I don't talk or laugh or breathe too deeply.

I didn't sleep well last night because the wheeze in my chest kept waking me up. I kept thinking I heard the faint sound of baby lambs. Seriously. That's what it sounded like. Baby sheep in a far-off pasture. Maybe it was the sound of Jesus with his flock, beckoning me home to Heaven.

During LOST last night (another episode which aggrivated me and pissed me the hell off) my fever got up to 103.1. As my mom says, "That's high for an adult!" And considering that my normal temperature is below the usual 98.6 it pretty much felt like I was roughly the temperature of an Oklahoma summer.

After a hot shower last night (because even though I was burning up I felt like I was Meredith Vieira in Vermont yesterday morning) I put on my favorite pajama pants that Cousin Stacey got me for my birthday last year - they're pink fleece with TinkerBell on them and they are oh so warm and comfy. I also put on a sweatshirt and socks. Because if you've already forgotten, I was Vieira cold. Haha, Vieira cold. I slay me. Anyway, as I climbed into bed with Kady, Sam on the cot next to me, to settle in for another night of Nyquil-induced sleep I realized that I was HOT. Like, so hot that I thought I was channeling Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite when he shaved his head because he realized it was his hair that was making him hot. I don't think I would look good bald, although, trust me, the thought of shaving my head still sounded plausible, so I decided to change into a t-shirt. I also decided to take off my socks.

Now, here's where I look back and realize that fevers are not good for me. The following event occured in kind of a haze. I knew it was happening and while it made complete sense to me at the time, I also didn't comprehend why it was going on.

I spent about two minutes trying to take off my socks without bending over. I scraped my foot across the carpet, trying to get the heel to slip down off the back of my foot. Nope. So I stepped on the toe of the sock with the other foot and pulled, but the heel was still too far up on the back of my foot. I scraped again. I moved to a different spot in the carpet as if changing carpet spots was going to make a difference. I tried the other sock, thinking that it was looser. YESSSSSSSS I managed to get it to slip off my heel, stepped on the toe with my other socked foot and it slid right off. So now that I had exposed piggies, I grasped the sock with my feverish piggies and tried to pull it off my heel. It took a few tries, but it finally worked. Success! My piggy toes were free and cooling. I headed back toward the bed, utterly wiped out and exhausted from all the energy I had just exerted in trying to not exert energy, then it hit me that my socks simply could not stay on the floor all night long. The earth would surely be knocked off its axis. I was certain that small European countries would be annihilated because my socks might be left on the floor overnight.

So I went back to the socks, bent over, picked them up and put them on my hope chest.

Then I settled into bed knowing that little Arfenschnauser in his little hut in the European mountains was going to make it through another night. And the baby sheep and Jesus began calling me home.

Grab My Button!

Strangely enough, it's all true.

I was born a semi-diva. I married a redneck. Through the magic of osmosis or just because of a serious lack of sophistication over the years I have found a balance of the two that make me what I am today. And then I write about it all, much to the chagrin of my mother.