I sneezed a total of 23 times at work today. Yeah, I counted. That seems a little excessive, don’t you think? And I couldn't even hold them in like I usually do. I just kept letting ‘em fly. I went through this little phase where I’d go “eeehhh…” and then hold in the sneeze, and end it with a high-pitched little “tchew!” It was annoying. Plus, my mom always said I’d blow my ear drums out by holding in sneezes.
When I was hanging out at my parents a couple weeks ago, my mom almost divorced my dad over his sneezes. He was Thor, and his sneezes shook the house. “AaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA…..CHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” My mom yelled back at him, “What is with your sneezes?! You don’t need a drum roll!” regarding his thunderous sneeze set-ups. Thirty seconds later, he’d do the exact same thing. It was like Spite Sneezing. Glorious.
The point is, though, if my 23 sneezes are any indication, I think I might be getting a cold, which would really, ah hem, blow. All that sniffling and words sounding all dumb - Wait, Pharon. Did you say DUMB or DUBB? I can’t understand you with your nose all stuffed up like that. One of the definite pluses of having a cold, though, is the NyQuil. Sweet, sweet NyQuil. That cherry flavored, oozy, thick, slippery wonderful treat. Yes, a treat. I can’t take it very often, as it gives me suuuuuper messed up dreams. They are the wonderful hallucinations of a mildly sick young lady. There was the one where I was sinking into a giant ice cream cone (bacon flavored, if I remember correctly), that was guarded by a wart-covered parrot who squawked "Eat it allllll up, Buttonface." Then I had to eat my way out of it but found it difficult to breathe in all that ice cream. I vaguely remember waking up briefly to discover my pillow in my mouth, further complicating my breathing.
When I finally DO manage to wake from my codeiney slumber, I feel like I’ve got a hazy new lease on life. My nose is unplugged, but I have developed a trippy case of vertigo. I’m like a baby fawn. And though my head is no longer tight with cold germs, it’s cloudy with delusions of grandeur. I’ll be standing in the shower, crank it all the way up to scalding and proclaim that my skin is made of metal (or, “betal” in Cold-Speak) and I am unburnable. Only after the NyQuil wears off will I realize that the itchy redness that is my skin is but the skin of a mortal.
I have the same reactions with DayQuil, too, but to a much lesser degree. So it’s like not even HALF as fun as the gooey goodness of a great NyQuil trip. And the best part of taking NyQuil vs. Dayquil is that for most of the nighttime remedy, you’re just layin’ there, sleeping in the safety of your own bed, not operating heavy machinery, and gettin’ healthy.
Despite the obvious perks of being able to snooze away in a mushy, cold-medicine fog, I really don’t want to get sick just yet. It's my dad's birthday on Friday, and I got him a pretty awesome gift, so I'd like to see him open it WITHOUT paranoia that it will come to life or crazy hallucinations. "Happy Birthday Dad! Holy crap, watch out for that murder of crows wearing bow ties that are dive-bombing the room!!!"
Have a great (and healthy) weekend, everyone!