Nyquil is horrid stuff. It tastes bad, it clogs up your brain, and it makes you drowsy. It doesn’t necessarily make you sleep, though.
And it really messes up one’s ability to blog.
Yesterday afternoon, I started a piece on the Tucson shooting. A long, thoughtful piece. And I’m still working on it.
I get a paragraph or two out, then start getting tired and my mind starts meandering around the universe. I poke through old TV shows, kick around various game scenarios, pick up a book, drop the book, and maybe sleep.
Sleep? Yeah, nap sounds pretty good.
Oh, yeah. My piece. Well, it’s around 1100 words so far, and I think I’m getting to the conclusion. I’m not sure; I might have skipped a point or two I thought important at the beginning.
I might just toss up one or two shorter pieces that don’t require as much thought to buy myself some more time to finish that one… and get over this damned miserable cold.
“Cold.” What a trivial, meaningless name for a disease that makes one feel so wretched. “You’re cold?” “No, I have a cold.” Which means I’m tired, and have trouble breathing, and feel chilly, and dopey, and sleepy, occasionally sneezy, and grumpy… certainly not happy, not bashful about complaining, and almost ready to see a doc.
OK, I definitely need to go back to bed. Where’s that damned poisoned apple?
