Saturday, January 22, 2005

You don't wanna know

Well, in a cycle I've become accustomed to, my sinuses are bleeding. Ergh. I managed to skip all this last year, but for the last few years it's become a regular January event -- I get a head cold, my sinuses go nuts, I become the Mucus Queen, and inevitably they get raw and start bleeding. It's a real treat, I tell you. Lasts for weeks. sometimes into March. Bah. I'm about to open my third box of Kleenex this week.

Now that you are completely nauseated, the good news. I seem to be getting better. Slowly, steadily. Still feel like spending most of my day in the bed, but I don't keep falling asleep (or keep trying to fall asleep only to wake up coughing or unable to breathe). That's good. My vocal chords are still unhappy, so I remain too froggy for words, but I think I'll make it to rehearsal, even if I can't actually sing.

Might try to read a book or something. I've been playing Sims 2 day and night now. I've just gotten my second generation of Sims married and starting their own families. I still don't know why I like doing this. I keep seeing things happen that susprise me -- a parent spontaneously going to tuck a child into bed, an option appearing for "Stuff face" at the fridge, or "Sneak Out" for a teenager...they did a damn good job on this version. I want the expansion pack.

My head feels like it's been beaten with an aluminum baseball bat. Not a wooden one -- no splinters. I tried using the evil Neti pot again, but this time something went wrong, and the water went into my eustachian tubes and just....stayed there....argh! Ack! Even Auyurvedic has turned against me! It's been hours and the pressure is gone, but the water...it's still in there. I can FEEL it. With the failure of alternative methods, I'm now considering the tried and true decongestents. I hate 'em -- they have their own set of nasty side effects, among which are feeling like my sinuses have been sandpapered with 120 grit. But I don't need a secondary infection getting in because of the rawness (which is what will happen) so that I stay miserable until March. Damn, there's no MIL in my house this year! I can leave the bedroom -- at least, as soon as I can walk a straight line.

Bitch, moan, complain. Why is it complaining seems to be such a diverting activity?

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