Wednesday, May 12, 2010

At Least You Can Turn Off A Faucet

Last week I made the mistake of giving the cubie-wall-guy, wall-cube-sharer, wall-mate, guy in the cubie next to me a bad time about “sharing” his cold with his girlfriend. “You owe her a present for making her sick you know” I said in my Mom voice. I’m not thinking saying Al put a hex on me, but less than 24 hours later the evil germs of sickness had launched a full frontal attack and established a beachhead in my head. I became one (ommmmm) with the couch. I drank gallons of lemon tea hoping that one of those swallows would be the one that would finally put out the flame in my throat. My head hurt. I was coughing. I was blowing my nose. And blowing some more. I was constantly blowing my nose. Did I mention I was blowing my nose? I didn’t care if my kleenex didn't make it into the wastebasket. They piled up all around me--on the couch, on the floor by the couch, on the floor by the bed. I left a kleenex trail from the couch to the teakettle and back to the couch. Heck, I didn’t even care enough to go FIND a wastebasket to use. I was sick. Ill. A hurtin’ unit. Under the weather. Where did the term under the weather come from anyway? What exactly does it mean? When I’m feeling healthy again will I be above the weather?

After a few days, lying on the couch, covered in Kleenex, watching all the back episodes of “Say Yes To The Dress” and “What Not To Wear” had lost its thrill. I was beginning to feel a twinge of guilt each time I dropped a kleenex to the pile on the floor. I was bored. I was sick of being sick and I wanted to do and see something that would make me feel cheerful and happy and healthy so I figured I’d change my blog template to something sunny and Spring-like. I wasn’t feeling healthy enough to actually write words, which should have clued me in to the fact that I probably wasn’t alert enough to change a template, but that didn’t stop me from plunging in.

I tried so many different combinations that I couldn’t even remember what my original blog looked like. Reclining on the couch, clicking laptop keys took its toll. My energy levels waned, as well as my attention, and the growing mountain of kleenex threatened to engulf me. In the middle of the ugliest combination of layouts, colors and backgrounds, I somehow managed to hit “apply to blog” instead of “view preview.”  It was beyond ugly. But I knew if I left it that way anybody who happened to open it would hit delete so fast they’d damage their digits and I didn’t want to be responsible for that. I had to quickly come up with a blog template that was at least tolerable. From now on, when you open this blog, pretend you’re seeing colorful flowers. Imagine the warm spring breeze on your face. Smell the freshly cut grass. Do you feel healthy and happy and energized? That’s what I was going for. Not what you're looking at.

It is now day nine and the germs occupying my body have yet to find another host to invade, although I think they’ve sent out some scouts because their influence is somewhat reduced. This morning, as I was leaving for work, I discovered I’m not the only living thing that’s been under the weather recently.  These poor little creatures are under the weather too. Get it? They’re feeling bad and droopy and under the weather. Literally. Under. The. Weather. hahahahahahhahahahahaha

No, that isn’t kleenex piling up around them.



Art Elser said...

Ah, not only did Al give you his bug, but he also gave you lessons in championship-level whining. I thought only Al could whine at this level. I'm not sure, but you may even be better at it than he is.

I think he's the official BLM distributor of that bug. He loves it so much he's hanging on to it. Or perhaps it's that he loves whining so much. ;-)

Al said...

What an ugly blog.

Lesley Collins said...

Present? I didn't get a present.

Art Elser said...

Cathy, I love the picture that I assume is Leslie and Abby and the quote from Shel Silverstein. If more people would listen to that "voice" there'd sure be a lot less pain and trouble in the world.

Al and his sister Barbara loved reading his books and having them read to them. The grosser the poem, the more they loved it. Kathy can still recite some of them she read them to the kids so often.