bunt sign

Monday, November 20, 2000

Something I've been fighting off for the last week finally caught up with me over the past couple of days. This early winter we're having might not be directly responsible, but it hasn't helped.

I'm still trying to walk every day (only a mile or so, but it all helps, I think). I look out at the sunshine and can't get my mind around the fact that it's cold and windy out there, and by the time I've reached the point of no return on my walk, the icy Arctic wind is slicing through my throat like a filleting knife.

This is California, you know, and we don't have parkas or mackinaws or mufflers or scarves. I usually wear a windbreaker, which does just that, and not very well either.

Last night I took the last of the Nyquil, and I was asleep almost before I could get under the covers. It was a deep sleep that lasted all night and (unfortunately) most of the morning. I was a half-stage above comatose on the slumber-o-meter until ten o'clock.

So I didn't get much work done this morning, and it's a short week, so I'll have to make it up, no matter how bad I feel.

And I'll have to get along without Nyquil tonight, since the drug store I went to has "voluntarily" removed it from the shelves. It apparently contains a substance that the FDA suspects of causing people to feel too good. I don't know if I got all that exactly right, but I would resort to real alcohol, if I had any in the house.

I did manage to find some "non-drowsy" cold capsules that put me right to sleep for an hour in the middle of the afternoon. Now that I've thoroughly messed up my sleep schedule, I'm not sure how I'm going to get through the next two days before the long weekend. Probably not very well.

To cheer myself up, I dug out some of my old country music CDs that I haven't played for a long time. What I love about this kind of music is that you can sing along with a song, even if you've never heard it before. Not that I could sing, with my throat feeling as if it's been sanded and shellacked, but still. Anyone who's heard me try to sing will tell you that losing my voice is no great loss.

I had to take a Dave Brubeck CD out of the player to put in the Mindy McCready. I don't know if this proves that my tastes are as eclectic as I like to think, or that I have no taste at all. John Coltrane for Bryan White. Miles Davis for Trisha Yearwood. Like that.

You know what else made me feel better? Stephen Collins singing Ricky Nelson songs on 7th Heaven tonight. (Also Ally McBeal, which I watch for the music.)

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