Lipstick Librarian Agonistes

I started the year with a sneeze.

Several sneezes, actually. Then came the massive congestion and fatigue. Great–I’ve got the library cold. So how did I spend my first day sick? Here’s a peek….

8:30 am: Wake up with a mouth drier than Lindsay Lohan during a DUI court appearance. Realizing I’ve been snoring throughout the night, I ask my husband if it bothered him. Husband replies, using words like “unholy” and “Darth Vader”. I retaliate with loud mouth breathing until he gets up and starts breakfast.

8:50: Begin shuffling around the house searching for tissues. Find two boxes shoved under the bed from my last cold. Both are three-quarters empty. I sniffle into a wad of tissues then crumple them into my pajama sleeves and waistband.

9:00: Lie on sofa and begin to moan. Husband sighs and turns up the heat under the kettle, making it whistle louder.

9:05: Go into the kitchen and begin fruitless attempts at treating cold by pouring four packets of Emergen-C into a glass of orange juice and swig it down, alternating gulps with fistfuls of ibuprofen. Stomach decides to let me know it doesn’t like the treatment by sending waves of constricting pain after each swallow. Decide the best tactic is a strong tea chaser.

9:15: Go back to the sofa and lie down again. Realize I need a blanket and floofy socks but don’t want to get up again. Decide to tough it out by scrunching my feet between the sofa cushions for warmth.

9:17: Husband rolls his eyes at the sight of contorted limbs squashed into sofa. Sighs and retrieves floofy socks for me. I thank him profusely, turn on Access Hollywood and fall asleep.

11:31: Wake up to the face of a scary lady on some Christian network show. I get up and begin clattering around the kitchen. After stacking enough cans on the kitchen counter to feed three families for a week, I find an ancient can of chicken noodle soup. Resume clattering with search for soup pan.

11:55: Return to sofa and suck down soup in ten minutes. Husband appalled at brutal slurping sounds. Ignore husband and fall asleep again, this time to sounds of Law & Order. Get cranky whenever the “dun-dun” sound disturbs my nap.

1:00 pm: Wake up for awhile and decide I’m bored out of my mind. Get up and dig for laptop buried under unfolded clothes. Fire up laptop and check e-mail.

1:05: Check Facebook page.

1:07: Check Myspace page.

1:08: Check Goodreads page

1:10: Check “Best of Craiglist” postings. Sneak peek at “Men seeking Women” postings. Get depressed and decide that husband must never die and leave me at the mercy of bald men with teeny pictures seeking a HWP, 420-friendly woman. Or any woman.

1:20 Go back to Facebook/Myspace/Goodreads. No updates.

3:00: Take a shower. Since there’s no clean laundry I am reduced to wearing the old mom underwear I swiped from mom (oddly enough) in 1985. Try to spiff them up by writing “Thug Life” over the “Bali” imprinted on the waistband with a Sharpie. Husband not impressed with my ingenuity.

3:45: Fall asleep again, forgetting to recap the Sharpie. Wake up to find a black amoeba-shaped spot on my pajama bottoms.

6:00: Now really bored. Resort to pestering husband with questions about past girlfriends. Husband responds with whimpers and a sudden interest in French neo-punk bands on eMusic.

6:45: Become hungry and more than little annoyed with the trail of crumpled tissues littering the house. Husband now ensconced upstairs.

8:30: Completely exhausted by the day’s events, I fall asleep while steaming sinuses over newly-washed soup pan.

8:42: Go to bed with intent of reading a book. Wind up passing out underneath a pile of Star Magazine, UsWeekly and proliferating tissues. Do not notice husband sleeping in bathtub until a 2:00 am trip to the bathroom.

Who says I don’t make a good sick person?

What I’m Listening To: Untrue by Burial. If I listen too closely I find myself sneezing in time with the trancelike beat.

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