When I was a kid, I had a fainting couch in my bedroom.
Not because I was prone to fainting or requiring long periods to regroup on a fashionable yet comfortable accessory, but because my parents had antiques – lots of ’em.
But I was always mystified by this contraption. When I was sick, there were two things I wanted: The Price is Right and a pillow. Later, it became a bottle of green death flavored Nyquil – for all those times you want to be comatose without a traumatic brain injury (TM).
(I should really run their advertising campaigns)
Now, of course, I have kids, which means that I can’t spend the day in a Green Death Coma. Kids have these NEEDS, you know? Like FOOD. And DIAPERS. And the Wii. No more Green Death Coma for me!
Which is usually fine. Nyquil makes me gag and generally when I’m sick one of two things happen:
1) I can sleep it off
B) I can work through it.
But I’m in the middle of a nasty withdrawal from my maintenance migraine meds (alliterations for the win!)(Carbitrol, for those who care), which means that sleep is out of the question. So is doing everything from writing a coherent blog post to taking a pee without whining.
I took yesterday off, a rare occurrence, figuring that spending a day huddled on the couch with my blanket and a Hoarders marathon, taking the time to properly moan, weep, and feel sorry for myself, in the hopes that I’d feel better today. I mean, I got shits to do. Like write crappy blog posts. And use The Twitter. And walk upright! And learn particle physics! AND LOUNGE AGAINST THE MOTHERFUCKING MACHINE!
It didn’t help.
So I will be taking today off as well, obnoxiously resenting kid germs, plotting the untimely death of Mark Zuckerberg and trying to lounge against the machine…from the couch.
If only I had more Hoarders and my fainting couch back. I bet that’d get me right again.