July 09, 2005

I have the plague. Ok, its a cold, but considering how shitty I feel, it might as well be the plague.

I have no idea how I got a cold in July. Ross doesn't have a cold, nor does anyone else I know, but somehow vile little germs have invaded my body and bestowed upon me the joy of every muscle in my body hurting, a lovely sense of exhaustion, and lets not forget the fun filled phlem-o-thon going on in my chest. Oy, this sucks. There's something fundamentally wrong with having a cold in summer. Nyquil and sunscreen just don't mix.

So now I'm in self-pity mode. Cry, poor me, I have a cold and feel rotten. But mostly I'm feeling sorry for myself because I fall into the small group of people for whom cold medicine is not a tranquilizing experience. Cold medicines always warn "marked drowsiness may occur" and further on in the warning it states "stop use if you get nervous, dizzy, or sleepless". And that's me, especially the sleepless part.

I took Robitussin last night, hoping I'd do better with it than I do with NyQuil, but instead I endured one long night of feeling like my brain was vibrating and what sleep I did get was filled with strange dreams. I had a dream where Ross was covered in dirt and I was bathing him in Windex, but mostly it was the same bad dream over and over, the one where I dream I'm awake and can't fall asleep, only to wake up and realize I was asleep. God, I hate that one. It's an insomniac's nightmare, especially an insomniac with a nasty cold who desperately needs sleep.

So no more psychoactive cold med for me. Having a cold is misery enough without it feeling like a bad trip. And while I don't think there's any such thing as a 24 hour cold, I'm hoping this passes quickly, like a phlem filled ship in the night. I'm also hoping that our upstairs neighbors duct tape their kid's mouth shut, but then there's only so much one can hope for.

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